


scatterheart

by sadclown



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, I don't update this anymore, INACTIVE STORY, M/M, Neighbors, New Kid AU, abuse mention, chapter six is just an authors note, cutest boys in the whole fricken UNIVERSE wow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-13 13:46:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14113644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadclown/pseuds/sadclown
Summary: After a couple more seconds, the voice calls out again. “If you don’t say something soon then I’m gonna think I hallucinated you.”“What?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Eddie instinctively croaks a reply to the ridiculous statement without meaning to. His eyes widen and he takes a step back, debating on whether or not to flee from the scene.But then the playful voice is back, replying as if Eddie hadn’t been standing there like a mute idiot the entire time. “Because you’re really cute, but you’re not saying anything, so I was really hoping you weren’t just a figment of my imagination.”...Eddie Kaspbrak and his mother move to Derry, Maine for a fresh start. The fresh start happens to include a neighbor with the name of Richie Tozier.INACTIVE STORY





	1. the voices (and the new one next door)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (as u read, there may be something u r confused abt. go to the bottom notes where i will explain!!)

His upper right forehead rests against his window, his face slowly sliding down as his weight shifts against gravity. He watches the buildings grow smaller and smaller the further they went and bites his cheek, fiddling with his fingers, nervous about everything. He was going to have to live in a new _house_ , sleep in a new _room_ … a new _school_. And he wasn’t prepared for any of it. He had never moved before.

Not really being close to anyone back where he lived, having liked to stay in the back of the class and not raise a lot of attention, he didn’t find himself very interesting and didn’t try to be. His life was about as exciting as the back of a cereal box: a bit interesting but didn’t fully capture your attention.

“Eddie, honey, don’t slouch. They say it’s bad for your spine and your digestive system. And don’t lean your head against the window; you’ll get an indent on your skull.”

 _Yeah, don’t slouch honey,_ his thoughts provoke.

“M’fine, ma,” he mumbles, lifting his head from the window and sitting himself upright. “Sorry.”

She cranes her neck towards him for a second, quickly examining him before returning her eyes back to the road. “You’ve been awfully quiet since the plane ride. Are you feeling alright? You… you’re not—“

“I’m fine,” he softly repeats, looking down at his sneakers. They were perfectly laced up with bunny ears. “Just thinking a lot.”

“All… _healthy_ thoughts?” Sonia Kaspbrak presumes, her voice light yet firm, a deeper meaning in the question.

Digging crescent moons into his palms, he answers, “Yeah.” Returning his attention to the sky, he speaks again. “Just… kind of nervous.”

“I understand that moving into a new environment can cause a strain on your nerves but you will get used to it. It’s always a bit difficult when you’re not used to your surroundings, but just stick with mommy and you’ll be fine. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Good boy. This change will fix you. I will fix you,” she praises. He gives her another tight smile, although her eyes stay trained on the road ahead of her, and turns his head back towards his window again.

They’d been driving for a few hours now, on top of being on an airplane for 12 hours, but his eyes had not grown tired of the change of scenery ahead of him. He pays attention to how the sun is hung up high in the sky; time being around 3:00, almost able to see the early stars. The further they drive, the grass grows less and less green and that high-set sun begins to seep away into the fog of clouds. His eyes scramble to watch the world passing by him but stop when they come across a big, wooden sign.

_Welcome to Derry!_

He feels his heart speed up as they enter further into the town, feeling that the exclamation point on the sign is a bit too much, especially considering the occasion. The place is dull and dreary; the sun gone now, and in its place, a mesh of sad, grey clouds. He wants to cry out to the sun to come back, that it was the only light he had left in his life, but he doesn't. Just the thought makes him cringe internally at himself. _So dramatic._

After around a half-hour or so, they pull up into a neighborhood, and Eddie semi-eagerly sits up, eyes hungrily searching for the new place he would learn to call _home_. They soon pull into the driveway of a two-story brown house. It has windows where windows need to be and a door were a door needs to be. Simple. A few bushes surround the walkway.

“We’ll have to have those bushes trimmed. You know how bad your allergies get.”

He steps out of the car and catches a whiff of the aroma that is Derry, Maine. It smells how unscented candles would smell if they had a scent; plain and musty with a mix of clean socks. The air fees a bit stuffy and humid, but wasn’t much different from the air from California.

“It’s nice,” he supposes, stretching his arms and yawning.

“See? You’ll get used to this place in no time,” his mother sounds pleased and ushers for him to help unload the trunk.

After unloading their belongings and furniture (or as much as he could without his mother complaining that he was going to break his arms or his back or his neck or oh Edward, take a break, this is all too much of a strain on you!) into the house, Eddie checks out the new abode, trying to adapt to his surroundings. After he meticulously sets up the bathroom, placing all of his essentials and many pill bottles in their new spots (which took about an hour), he checks out his new room. He opens the door and walks in, running his index finger until it was numb against the plain, white, bumpy wall.

The first thing he notices about the room is that it has one window and is uncomfortably cold, causing him to wish he had brought a blanket with him in the car. After shutting the door, he sits down on the air mattress that was placed where his bed would be when their furniture arrived and wonders more about how his life at Derry would be.

 _The same. New environment, same circumstances._ His thoughts interrupt again. Eddie sighs and rubs the back of his head.

It was dumb, and he had tried to quit so many times, but it was hard when you were high on dreamdope, being both the customer and the dealer. Ever since the fifth grade, he had attained an imaginary audience in his head who followed him around and watched him as if he was the star of a movie. He wasn’t schizophrenic; he spoke to them and they spoke back, but he knew they weren’t really there. He was always very clear about that. He had just been so lonely when he was younger that his mind had personified his thoughts. They were, to put bluntly, imaginary friends.

They were like the laugh track of a movie, the ones who would go laugh or say _uh-oh_ or _isn’t that a shame_. But they weren’t his _main_ problem. Out of all of the Voices in his head, four of them had stood out for their outspoken personalities.

First and foremost was one Voice he had named Sexy Lady. It was a pretty blunt name, but she had a very blunt personality, so it fit. She usually had a low-cut, red dress on and was supposed to tell him how hot he was all the time. Second, there was the fat bald guy with a mustache who sat in the back of the theater, writing strict reviews. He had dark skin and always a warm tone; the father of the group, you could say. Eddie called him FBG with a mustache for short. Third, the mother of the group, was an older woman named Aunt Bee. She looked a lot like an older ballet teacher with her hair permanently in a tight bun. She was very well-spoken and kind; very sympathetic. Finally, there was the kid who krazy glued the fingers of his left hand together, so he just called him Crazy Glue. He was always spouting off nonsense and making Eddie uncomfortable.

The whole thing was kind of a big deal, but acting like it wasn’t made it easier for everyone else, so he kept it to himself. All of them took up an abnormal amount of space in his head, often leaving Eddie wondering if he was going mad.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Yeah, mad with boredom! You know, Derry is just about as boring as your life._

**_SEXY LADY_ ** _: His life isn’t boring. He’s just been in a lull for a while._

_Yeah, a nice, safe lull for two years,_ Eddie snorts, folding up his knees and holding himself. _I like being invisible._

 ** _AUNT BEE:_** _That’s understandable, poor boy. You’ve had it very rough in the past._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _And of recent. Maybe you need some company to get your mind off of some things._

He shrugs and plays with the lint of the mattress, _I don’t need friends. Friends are dangerous._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _The goob is right. He’s in hiding. Friends would only give him more exposure._

_S **EXY LADY:** But what does he have to hide? _

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _The truth. The guilt of what happened with his father. He’s closed himself off from any interaction with any other human being._

He swallows thickly. _I’ve been getting better._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Oh, really? What’s the reason you moved again?_

__

He rolls his eyes and glares at nothing, feeling his cheeks heat up.

__

**_SEXY LADY_** **:** _I think glaring’s hot._

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m in your head remember? You made me say that._

__

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Shush. Don’t listen to him, son. You are getting better._

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _I agree. Slowly but surely._

__

Leaning his cheek on his knee, he closes his eyes. _I really hope so._

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Well, I know so._

__

Getting a slight headache, he leaves and takes a pill from the bottomless varieties, then decides to head downstairs. His hand trails on the bumpy wall for each step he goes down and finds his mother sitting in a recliner chair. She cranes her head towards him, cheeks wobbling as she speaks enthusiastically. “Eddie-bear, look! While you were upstairs unpacking, the movers arrived and dropped off a few of our things. We got our television!”

__

He looks at the backdoor. “That’s great, ma.”

__

“Oh honey, would you be a dear and change the channel for me? I just sat down and you know how too much weight on mama’s legs can be,” She pouts and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

__

“Of course,” He says instead, pressing whatever button until his mom let out a happy sigh. He looks around at the house, anywhere but at her, and then decides: “I think I’m going to go outside.”

__

“In the front?”

__

“Uh, no. Just in the backyard.”

__

She hmphs. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Edward. We won’t be able to have the grass trimmed until tomorrow and I think your allergies might act up.”

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Maybe your mother’s right. You do have quite bad allergies._

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_** _Yeah, Eddie bear. You might just sneeze your life away._

__

He rubs his arms. “I’ll be fine, ma. Just wanna get some fresh air,” He forces a smile towards her. “Promise.”

__

Sounding tired, she sighs. “Just be in by dark. And don’t roll around in the grass.”

__

“Okay, mom,” He nods, leaving out the back door and walking into a forest.

__

Or at least it looked like one. She had actually been right about something: the grass is extremely long and tickles his legs, but she had left out a detail— there were dozens of flowers. He walks eagerly over to a bush and finds yellow roses— his favorite, and he picked one.

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _What a pansy._

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _There is nothing wrong with a boy liking flowers._

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_** _(whispers) Enter the goob wearing pink shorts that are way too short for him, not to mention his infamous fanny pack wrapped around his waist. All he’s got in there are Band-Aids, his daily meds, and_ — _oh, how could we forget?_ — _his trusty, ole’ reliable inhaler. He hasn’t used that thing in months! And you would think that by now he’d be at a healthy height, especially with all the meds he crams down his throat. How’s the weather down there, goob?_

__

**_LAUGH TRACK:_ ** _Ha, ha!_

__

_S **EXY LADY:** I think short men are hot. I know I’m not the only one. You saw how all those girls were starting to take interest in you before you moved. You’ve got those brown, Bambi eyes, cute little freckles and dark, wavy locks. _

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _I think the poor boy needs a hair-cut._

__

_You sound like my mom._ He plays with the stem of the flower, twirling it around between his fingers. He hates when they say things that remind him of his mother.

__

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Don’t listen to her. Girls dig longer hair._

__

Eddie frowns at her words. _Girls._

__

Taking a deep breath, he brings the flower to his nose and inhales its sweet and soft smell. The sun was beginning to set and a new, pink and amber hue rested over him. He leans over to pick another one, thinking maybe he could make a bouquet if his mother wasn’t so against the idea of bringing a bit of dirt into the house.

__

“You know, I’m pretty sure it's bad luck to pick freshly bloomed flowers.”

__

Eddie feels cold fear spring through him as he spins around, dropping the lovely rose from his hand. _That_ voice hadn’t been in his head. He knew the difference.

__

(the day he didn’t would be the day he went insane)

__

Then, after a short pause, the deep, raspy voice continues as if it had never stopped. “' _If you love a flower, don’t pick it up, because if you pick it up, it dies and it ceases to be what you love_ ,’ or something like that," It had attained a British accent for a second. “I think it’s _Osho_ but I might be wrong. I’m not too keen on poetry. Leave that to haystack.”

__

Silence. 

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Maybe you really are losing it._

__

Eddie rapidly looks around his new backyard, searching for the source of the voice, a face or a figure, maybe even a shadow, but there was no one. He wraps his arms around himself and began to anxiously wonder if he should have ran inside by now. Ignoring his instinct to flee, he baths in the silence, his nerves on high alert.

__

After a couple more seconds, the voice calls out again. “If you don’t say something soon then I’m gonna think I hallucinated you.”  

__

Furrowing his eyebrows, Eddie instinctively croaks a reply to the ridiculous statement without realizing it, “What?”

__

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Now you’ve done it._

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Quick, run inside. It could be someone dangerous._

__

Before Eddie could act on his thoughts, the playful voice was back, replying as if Eddie hadn’t been standing there like a mute idiot the entire time. “Because you’re really cute, but you’re not saying anything, so I was really hoping you weren’t just a figment of my imagination.”

__

_Cute?_

__

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _He’s not wrong, honey._

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Oh, this guy’s a psycho alright. But now he knows you’re not deaf. Say something, goob!_

__

“What?” Eddie repeats, ignoring his instinct to use his inhaler.

__

“For someone whose brain seems to be working overtime, you don’t seem to come up with much other than that word,” The voice teases.

__

Feeling his cheeks burn, Eddie speaks up, cautious but a bit insulted. “For someone who talks so much, you don’t seem to think before you speak.”

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _That’ll teach him._

__

“Yowza! New _boy next door_ gets off on a good one!” The voice laughs. A nice sound.

__

_Boy next door?_ “You’re my neighbor?” Eddie realizes and looks over at his fences. He doesn’t know what side the voice is coming from; everything seems to echo, his head too loud. “Where are you? Are you behind one of the fences?”

__

“Why? Wanna see if the face is as pretty as the voice?” The voice questions the questions back; a bit of smugness in the tone.

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Okay, now this is getting a bit weird._

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Seriously. Yowza? What’s up with that?_

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Not that. The whole situation. Talking to a bodiless voice that isn’t from his head._

__

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Maybe it’s like that Phantom of the Opera book. He’s your angel of music and he’s gonna teach you how to sing and he’ll fall in love with you but then you find out he’s incredibly deformed._

__

Feeling a frown tug on the corner of his lips, Eddie justifies himself, “No. It just… feels weird speaking to a disembodied voice,” The words _out loud_ left unspoken. “Can you show yourself?”

__

Eddie stands there as a cool breeze wafts over him, causing him to shiver slightly. He waits a few moments for a reply, but after there had been no response but silence, he starts to turn away, knowing his mom was going to scold him for staying outside in the cold, ignoring the saggy feeling in his chest.

__

Then he hears the sound of shoes and fabric against wood. 

__

The face that peeks out from behind the left wooden fence makes Eddie’s breath hitch. It's a boy that looks around his age; maybe a little older, but only because of the dark circles under his eyes. The boy has beautiful, yet messy, chocolate curls, about a hundred freckles, and wears large ( _physically_ uncharacteristic) coke-bottle glasses. He teeters a cigarette between his teeth, his mouth locked in an amused, side smile. He wears a loose-fit, blue, jean jacket, his arms rest crossed over the fence nonchalantly.

__

“Oh,” Eddie says softly, relaxing, glad it wasn’t a burglar or someone dangerous. Even if he had been a criminal, Eddie doesn’t know what he would have done. The boy captures Eddie's attention in a strange way and Eddie feels frozen to the spot, unable to look away.

__

“ _Oh_? _Oh_ what?” The voice teases. The voice. It wasn’t a voice. It was a person. _A person was talking to Eddie_. “An _oh_ , _you’re more attractive than I thought_ , kind of oh?” The boy takes a drag of his cigarette, the smoke floating in the air.

__

Eddie rolls his eyes nervously, ignoring the obvious fact that his cheeks were crimson. “ _Oh_ as in I’m glad you’re not a murderer or anything,” He shifts uncomfortably.

__

The boy’s smile drops and he leans over a bit more, a playful twinkle in his eye. “You don’t know that.”

__

Frowning, Eddie crosses his arms protectively and ignores the way his heart speeds up. “But I do know you’re not as intimidating as you might think you are.”

__

Instead of getting upset, the boy only starts grinning again, the cigarette teetering ever so slightly between his teeth. “You think I’m intimidating?”

__

“No.” Eddie lies. Hands on his hips, he corrects, “I think you’re a… trashmouth.”

__

“ _Trashmouth_ , huh?” The boy draws the word out and smirks, obviously entertained at Eddie's word choice. “New neighbor gets off on yet _another_ good one, ladies and gents! Two in one night, that’s a deal! Say, new neighbor,” He pulls on a Southern drawl and takes another drag, “What do they call you ‘round these parts?”

__

“I’m not telling you my name, if that’s what you’re implying,” Eddie argues. _What was up with those stupid accents? First he was British and now he's Southern?_

__

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Lighten up, honey. You haven’t had a friend since the seventh grade. Why are you pushing away someone who’s trying to make voluntary conversation with you?_

__

_You all were telling me to run from him just a few seconds ago,_ he internally groans.

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _That was before we were sure that he wasn’t a Michael Myers in training._

__

**_SEXY LADY:_** _Give him a chance, babe. He’s kind of good looking._

__

Eddie feels his entire face heat up at her words. “Eddie,” He speaks up again before the other boy can interrupt. “My name is Eddie.”

__

The boy rises his eyebrows, his glasses slinking down his face a little bit. “Eddie,” Eddie shivers at the sound of his own name in the boy’s voice. “Huh. Nice to meet ya, Eddie Kaspbrak.”

__

Eddie’s eyes widen. “How’d you know my last name?” The thought of what happened last week’s possibility of being in a newspaper in Derry, Maine clouds his mind.

__

“S’on your mailbox,” Trashmouth answers nonchalantly, and takes another drag, oblivious to Eddie's internal struggle. Eddie sighs in relief but wrinkles his nose at the smell. “Barely been here for an hour and you’ve got the bushes trimmed and your mailbox prettied up. The old lady run a tight ship?”

__

Eddie nods and lets out a shaky chuckle while shooing away the smoke. “You have no idea.”

__

“As tight as she was last night, if you catch my drift,” He winks.

__

Eddie chokes. “No, I don’t catch your— are you making a _sex joke_ about my _mother?”_   He asks in utter disgust. _Michael Myers._

__

“You mean that babe that keeps you on a leash? You betcha,” The boy grins only wider and Eddie briefly wonders if it hurts. 

__

Eddie suppresses a gag and shakes his head. “My mom is _not_ a babe, trust me.”

__

“Mendacities won’t get you anywhere, Eds,” The trashmouth replies in a sing-songy voice, tilting his head to side, a curl falling directly over one of his eyes. Eddie finds himself unable to look away.

__

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Eds? Totally stealing that one._

__

“Don’t… call me that,” Eddie shakes himself out of his stupor and frowns. “And I’m not lying. Why would I find my own mother hot?”

__

“Hey,” The boy rises his hands up in defense, using his elbows to stay up on the fence. Eddie's heart clenches at the idea of him slipping and falling. “Different strokes for different folks. Don’t hate the player, hate the game.”

__

“Is it an option to hate both?” Eddie says, unable to help himself.

__

The boy pushes up his glasses and dramatically sniffs, taking another drag. “Gee, Eds. You're quite the overachiever,” He puts out his cigarette against the wooden fence, dropping it over on Eddie’s side and Eddie can't help but cringe, both at the cigarette now on his lawn and at the nickname. “Well,” He brushes his hands together in a cleanly manner, “Catch ya on the flipside, spaghetti.”

__

"Wh— Spaghetti?"

"Eddie Spaghetti!" The boy laughs at his own words and Eddie opens his mouth to speak again, an insult on the top of his tongue, but before he can, the boy seemingly vanishes in thin air. Eddie would have thought he had if he hadn’t heard the sound of him landing, probably falling clumsily.

__

“Hey!” Eddie yells, running up to the fence, (silently holding onto the last chance of friendship for dear life) “You never told me your name,” His voice dies down with each word.

__

The boy was gone.

__

If it weren’t for the stupid cigarette butt Eddie has crushed under his sneakers, he would have thought he had imagined the whole thing.

__

Eddie doesn't move for a while. Instead he leans up against the fence and thinks for a bit, the possible chance the mysterious trashmouth would return looming around in his head; a soft hope. He stands there until the soft orange and red clouds merge with the grey, pasty ones, setting off a pink and grey hue. Until the setting sun falls and all the colors melt together like a warm watercolor. Until the moon is high in the sky and the stars appear, the October breeze soft against his skin. Until his mother calls him to come back inside or else he’d catch a chill.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok if ur confused, lemme explain: crazy glue, aunt bee, FBG with a mustache, sexy lady, and the laugh track are all JUST EDDIE'S THOUGHTS IN HIS HEAD. he's just talking to himself!! he's kinda personified his thoughts into "people" and made it seem as if they talk to him like lines in a movie & the "movie" is his life. make sense? if it weirds u out, then forget the voice name and just read the italics. it’s literally just eddie talking to himself lol
> 
>  
> 
> playlist for scatterheart: https://spoti.fi/2SIMgNm
> 
> leave a comment and tell me what u think or whatevr!  
> warmth


	2. the stupid beach

It’s now Tuesday, the next day, and Eddie has never biked this slow his entire life.

He hasn’t yet stepped a foot onto his new campus and yet somehow already feels like a disaster. After arguing with his mother for half an hour about his choice of transportation, he left and the uneasy feelings from yesterday returned. Biking had usually been a pleasant stress-reliever, allowing him to get lost in thought for long periods of time while exercising and exploring the town, but Derry wasn’t even half as interesting as California. And California  _wasn’t_  interesting.

 **_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Take it easy, son. It’s not going to be that bad._

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Yeah, Eds, take a breather. Don’t you remember how chill you were talking to that guy yesterday?_

Eddie’s hands tighten on the handlebar as he feels his heart skip a beat at the fond memory.  _Don’t you dare call me that. And I was shaking the entire time._

 **_SEXY LADY:_ ** _So what? He didn’t notice. Nobody will notice. You’ll be fine._

He wants to squeeze his eyes shut and wish that everything would go away, but he knows if he did, there would be a high chance he would crash and he  _really_  didn’t have the energy to deal with that. Before he knows it, he slows the bike down, reaching a tall building with big, blocky red letters, welcoming him with their message and unwelcoming him with its intimidating color. He had taken a color theory class two years ago and paid attention to things like this. Red was bad. Warning. Run.

 **_AUNT BEE:_ ** _You’ve got this._

Taking off his helmet with shaky fingers and locking up his bike, Eddie holds the straps of his backpack with his thumbs and walks into the entrance of the school. He knows he’s trembling, but he sucks in a huge breath while a chorus of  _you’ve got this_ chants repetitively in his head.  _You’ve got this. You’ve got this._

And for the most part, he did, depending on what  _this_  was.

Walking through the constricting halls he feels like an ant among the pray mantis of other students, but no one really pays any attention to him, which is not surprising but relieves him all the same. It’s only slightly awkward when his teachers tell him to introduce himself in front of the whole class, “—and tell us one thing about yourself!” He repeats the same words in each class as if they were poorly rehearsed. “My name is Eddie Kaspbrak and I’m from California.” He decides. It’s a simple statement, giving enough while giving nothing at all. But then in his fourth period class he’s asked to elaborate on that statement.

“How do you like Derry, Eddie?” His math teacher, Mr. Labrinske, asks while pushing up his golden glasses, which look too small and uncomfortable for his big nose. “Is it much different than California?

Eddie shifts foot to foot, uncomfortably, unsure what to say. “Um,” He clenches and unclenches his sweaty palms and chokes a soft reply. “Not really— I mean, kind of,” He shrugs.

“How so?” Mr. Labrinske further questions.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Say something about the beach, goob. The beach! That’s all they wanna hear._

 **_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Oh, well he’s never had any good beach experiences. He barely went, and when he did, his mother bombarded him every five seconds with sunscreen._

 **_SEXY LADY:_ ** _He has a few good memories with his father, remember?_

Eddie realizes he’d been quiet for too long and quickly squeaks out a random reply. “Sunscreen.”

 **_LAUGH TRACK:_ ** _(booing noises)_

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _What the fuck._

“What about it?” Mr. Labrinske continues to kindly interrogate, if one could  _kindly_  interrogate.

He looks down at his feet as if they were the most interesting thing in the world, avoiding anyone and everyone’s gaze. _“_ “It’s different than how it is there,” He finally says and unwillingly feels his cheeks heat up. His heart feels like a bird in a cage flapping its wings, trying to get out.  _Thump, thump, thump._

“Why are you using sunscreen when it’s October?” A male voice yells from one of the desks, earning a few snickers. He opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out.

 **_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Oh dear._

“Thank you, Eddie. You can sit down now. Patrick, another crack out of you and you’ll be getting Saturday school for the second time this month.”

 _Patrick_  groans and lamely apologizes, but Eddie’s too focused on finding his seat and sitting down. For the rest of the class, he hears giggles and the word  _sunscreen_  in the same sentence. Eddie ignores them and tries to block them out with his thoughts. He finds his mind drifting off to a certain boy with curly hair and a cigarette between his teeth quite a lot. But he didn’t mind.

When the bell for fifth period rings, Eddie realizes it’s lunch and he doesn’t know what to do. If he had been outgoing, he might’ve went up to a group, ask to eat with them. Hell, maybe even trade snacks. But Eddie was the opposite of outgoing, so he looks for a bathroom and hides in a stall.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Do I even need to say anything?_

Eddie drops his backpack down and sits on a toilet, pulling his legs up and hugging them, holding himself tightly.  _I was nervous, okay? And you guys told me to say something about the beach so I did._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_** _That is not in the slightest what I meant._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. It’s fine._

_Yeah, but now everyone thinks I’m the weirdo new kid who likes sunscreen._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _I bet they were all just wondering what it would be like to rub sunscreen on your back. Your skin’s always been so soft._

 **_AUNT BEE:_ ** _FBG is right. They’ll all forget about it in a week._

 _Whatever._  He feels his heart heavily sag like a sopping wet shirt.

A few seconds later, he hears the door open and holds his breath, hoping whoever came in wouldn’t stay long. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a second!” A clear, beautiful voice calls out and his heart thunders with confusion.

It was a girl. A girl was in the boy’s bathroom.

Eddie hugs himself tightly, watching the girl through the crack in the stall’s door. She has short, red, curly hair and wears a black and red striped tank top, her unzipped backpack slung sloppily on one of her shoulders as if she threw it on in a hurry. She looks at herself in the mirror, softly humming a song he doesn’t know, and he can’t help but admire her. She’s beautiful. But she’s a girl and she’s in the boy’s bathroom. He feels his bird heart flapping in his rib cage again.

 **_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Don’t say anything._

 **_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Don’t say anything._

 **_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Don’t say anything._

**_LAUGH TRACK:_ ** _Don’t say anything!_

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Anything but sunscreen again._

“Um, hey, I think you’re in the wrong bathroom,” Eddie squeaks out a minute later after she doesn’t leave, wishing his voice sounded more confident, and the girl whips around, probably surprised there had been someone else was in the bathroom. He had been so quiet.

She looks curiously at his stall door. “What?”

Eddie shifts on the toilet slightly. “I think you’re in the wrong bathroom. This is the boy’s room.”  _I shouldn’t have said anything._

The girl twists her face in soft confusion and looks around at the room. “Uh. This is the girl’s room.”

“What?” He breathes, all the air he had left in him vanishing.

“This is the girl’s room,” She repeats.  “See any urinals in here?” She gestures around the room. His eyes widen and he suddenly realizes his obvious mistake.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Today just is not your day, huh._

He feels his throat slightly close up, his hands instinctively reaching over to his fanny pack. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…fuck, I didn’t see the sign. I—“ He fumbles around with his words, a shaky mess. Disaster.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Should have said sunscreen._

She cuts him off, rising up her hands in a relaxed manner, signaling for him to cool down. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Mistakes happen,” She shrugs and shifts her weight. “Sorry, I might be wrong, but you sound familiar: are you the new kid?”

“Yeah,” He replies awkwardly, embarrassed he’s still talking while huddled on the toilet in the wrong bathroom.

“Yeah! We just had Math together,” She responds casually as if they already were good friends. “What’s your name again? Eddie? You probably didn’t see me. I sit in the way back, as far as I can get from everyone. That class is full of a bunch of assholes.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” He shakily chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve heard so many people laugh at the word  _sunscreen_  before.”

She looks up at the ceiling as if in thought and then replies, “You know, now that you think about it, the sunscreen here does kind of suck.”

Eddie sighs. “I haven’t tried it. It’s October,” There’s a slight pause where they both consider the ridiculous conversation they’re having, and a bubble of laughter erupts from the girl’s throat. Eddie laughs too, a bundle of nervous escaping into his small giggle.

“You’re pretty funny, kid, don’t be a stranger. This is the back bathroom. No one really uses it,” She says when she finishes laughing, eyeing his door curiously again. He slides off the seat, grabbing his bag and swinging it over his shoulder, and takes another deep breath before unlocking the grey, stall door with a click. The girl’s eyes finally meet his own, a friendly grin spreading across her face.

“Hi,” He says, the air a bit stiff.

The girl’s confident nonchalance evens it out. “Hey. Here, can you hold my stuff? I actually have to pee,” She asks, holding out her bag to him. He nods, taking it, and notices how oddly light it is in comparison to his. She enters the stall next to the one he was in and speaks up again. “My name’s Beverly, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Beverly,” Eddie replies kindly, just how his mother taught him too.

“You too,” She hums and then he hears the familiar sound of peeing. “Besides last class, how’s the first day treatin’ you? My boyfriend used to be the new kid for a long time and he said it sucked.”

He shrugs, feeling a bit awkward to speak to her while she was using the bathroom, but remembers she can’t see him. Unless she was looking at him through the door crack like he had done. Thinking of a million ways to respond to her statement, he chooses one: “I agree with him; who’s your boyfriend?”

“His name's Ben. Have a class with anyone named Ben?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” He says, looking down at her bag in his hands. He notices two, small, off-white words stitched into it.  _Paper Boats._ A question for another time, he thinks,  _if there is another time_. “I have, um, history, gym… Spanish, math, lunch, uh then I think English, and then Chem.”

“Huh. Richie has English after lunch too,”  She comes out of the stall and walks over to the sink to wash her hands. “Wonder if you guys have the same class,” Eddie opens his mouth to ask who Richie is, but then she’s turning towards him and taking her bag from his hands, and he thinks: this is it, she’s going to say goodbye and he’s never going to talk to anyone at the school ever again. Despite his thoughts, she smiles warmly and cocks her head to the side, “Wanna hang out with me and my friends tomorrow?” Eddie likes to think he can almost hear a bit of hope in her tone.

No is the answer that comes to his mind first.  _You don’t need friends. Friends are dangerous. Say no._  But he finds himself saying, “I mean, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

She shakes her head. “Not at all.”

“Then okay.” He shrugs, a nonchalant gesture to counterclaim the dumb side smile plastered on his face. “Sure.”

“Cool. You know the big elm tree right next to the marquee?”

"Yeah." He nods.

“Meet me there at when then bell rings for lunch," She smiles at him then waves goodbye as she leaves the bathroom and Eddie thinks he might have just made a friend.  

…

When Eddie comes home from school, his mother bombards him with endless of questions such as  _Are the kids at school nice? Do you like your teachers? Are the classrooms warm enough? Did you like your lunch?_  He interrupts her after about half an hour had gone by, explaining that he had school work he needed to work on, and she lets him go, but not without petting his head and telling him how much of a good boy he’s been.

A couple hours later, Eddie sneaks back downstairs and opens the backdoor, wanting to see the yellow roses again.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Who do you think you’re fooling, goob? We know why you’re out here._

 **_SEXY LADY:_ ** _You wanna see your mystery boy again, don’t you?_

Eddie rolls his eyes and takes a step outside when he hears his mother’s voice call from outside: “Eddie, honey? Is that you? What are you doing going outside? It’s too late. All of the bugs will come out soon.”

He cringes at how loud her voice is, not doubting that the entire neighborhood heard her screechy tone. “I’m fine, mom! I just need some fresh air!” He whisper-yells, trying his hardest to keep annoyance out of his voice.

“But, Eddie, the mosquitoes are especially—“

“I’ll be back inside in a minute!” He interrupts, shutting the door before he can hear her response, only feeling a small pinch of guilt. He leans his body up against his door with a sigh.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Wow, goob, you did her dirty._

 **_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Poor boy. He can’t even step outside without his mother asking for a blood sample._

 **_AUNT BEE:_ ** _She’s just worried about him. There’s nothing wrong with that._

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Worried about him? She makes him bring a box of Band-Aids with him wherever he goes. She’s a bit obsessed._

 **_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Can’t say I blame her._

 **_AUNT BEE:_ ** _I wouldn’t say she’s obsessed. How would you treat your children if they acted out how Eddie did?_

 _Hey_ —

“You’re not gonna act like you’re deaf again, are you?”

Eddie jolts his head up in surprise and his eyes instantly find the curly haired, freckled-faced boy. He’s holding himself up on the fence by his arms again but is now wearing a dark, maroon jacket and he's without a cigarette. Eddie hates the way his bird heart pounds.  _Thump, thump, thump._ “You’re back.”

“I’m back,” The boy nods, his hair even more unruly than it was the day before and his dark circles more prominent. “Miss me?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs,  _play it cool._  “You wish.”

Eddie regrets his words when he sees the smug grin appear on the boy’s face. “Actually,  _you_  wish. _I’m_  the genie. You see, Eds, rub me right and all your wishes will be granted,” He winks.

“Gross," Eddie responds, trying his best to glare. "And I told you not to call me that.”

“You also told me your mom’s not hot, so I don’t know whether or not to believe what you say anymore,” He shrugs in faux confusion and melodramatically looks away.

 **_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _This guy is a top class crackhead._

“Well, believe me when I say I don’t like the nickname  _Eds,_ ” He speaks the word with a venom in his voice, shaking his head.

The boy hums, eyeing Eddie again. “Would you prefer Eddie Spaghetti?”

“I would  _prefer_  my real name.”

“Whatever you say, Edward.”

Eddie lets out a huff of air. "And  _I'm_  the deaf one," He mutters more to himself.

The boy blinks once, twice, three times and then replies, “Ho-leee shit, would you get a load of this kid?” He rests his head on his crossed arms, still hanging over the fence, and rises his eyes up to the sky in faux beguile. “Eddie Spaghetti: The Human Spitfire. The legendary  _comedian_ ,” He waves his hand in the air as if he was feeling a wall, picturing whatever in his mind and splaying it out. “I can see it now. Newspaper headings. Spelt out in the sky. On a blimp.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. “I see the name Trashmouth still stands.”

“Tall and proud, Eds,” The boy sighs, content.

“You’re not gonna stop calling me that, are you?” Eddie sighs. It’s more of a statement than a question.

“I mean, I’ll call you Edward if you really want,” The boy offers and Eddie scrunches up his nose. “Folks, we’ve lost ‘em. Eddie Spaghetti, Human Spitfire, has been doused out, I repeat,  _doused out_. Will he ever be able to tell another joke again? Tune in next time to find out,” He continues in a television spokesmen’s voice.  _Next time. There's gonna be a next time._

“You're so annoying," Eddie rubs his eyes, tired of rolling them so much. "Do you always talk this much?” He finds himself asking.

The boy pushes his glasses up again, a smug grin teasing on his face. “Guess you’ll just have to stick around and find out, huh?”

Eddie only shrugs, torn between wanting to roll his eyes again but also wanting to agree, to say  _“Guess so.”_  There’s a soft silence as both of the boys just watch each other and Eddie thinks the boy’s stare is so intense that laser beams will shoot out of his eyes, melting Eddie into mush.

The boy strains his neck, looking at something behind him, then turns back. “It’s been a sweet deal quarrelling with you, but I better run inside before the missus has a conniption.”

“Oh.” Eddie shifts slightly, unable to hide the unexpected disappointment clearly written across his face. “Okay.”

“Fret not, Spaghetti. I’ll be back tomorrow,” The boy continues in a British accent. He drops it and adds a soft, “If you want.”

 _If you want._ “Yeah.” Eddie gulps and nods, hoping he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. "Sure."  _If you want._

The boy grins cheekily. “Aw, Eds, you wanna see me again.”

Eddie shakes his head, his heart racing again for some ungodly reason, and an annoying blush paints on his face as he turns back to walk back inside. “Forget I even said anything.”

“Here right after school tomorrow sound okay?” The boy asks, and Eddie turns around only to see a stupid, toothy grin still on his face.

“Sounds perfect.” He says, but it comes out as, “Whatever.”

“See you then, Eds.” The boy grins one last time then disappears before Eddie can chastise him for using the nickname again.

It’s only when he’s lying awake in his bed that night that Eddie realizes he still doesn’t know the boy’s name.

 


	3. freeze the day

An endless sea of faces.

A mix of brunettes and blondes, blue eyes and brown eyes, men and women, all mingling together with similar and different purposes, yet he feels oddly out of place among all the other normal teens as he looks out to the grassy campus, sitting under the old elm tree that Beverly told him to wait by. The October breeze rustles the bare branches above him causing him to slightly shiver as he takes out his chicken salad sandwich from its foil wrapping. Pushing a piece of his windblown hair behind his ear, he glances around for Beverly again, hoping she would arrive soon.

He takes a nibble of his somewhat soggy sandwich and continues to wait, pulling out one of his notebooks as if he was studying something important, ignoring the Voices in his head telling him that she stood him up. Instead, he thinks about his neighbor who keeps making conversation although Eddie’s not so sure why. No one spoke to Eddie back in California. No one. So what changed? The wind blows some of the pages around, bending and creasing them, and he closes it so his notes wouldn’t be destroyed, not that they were very well written anyway.

“Hey, new kid!” A familiar female voice finally calls from nearby. He looks up to see the red-haired girl walking towards him, waving and smiling from across the courtyard. Packing up his stuff, he stands up and walks towards her, almost able to feel her positive energy vibrating towards him. “Sorry, I’m so late. You looked pretty lonely over there.”

He _felt_ pretty lonely over there. “Heh. It’s fine.” He shrugs.

“Come on,” She nudges his arm and laughs. “You ready to go?”

He nods and they begin to walk, Beverly leading the way. “What are they like?” He asks.

“What?”

“Your friends,” He restates. “The ones we’re hanging out with today. What are they like?”

“Ohh.” She rolls her head back in realization. “Well, for starters, I’m the only girl,” She states, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “But I mean, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She raises her arms in a gesture of _what are ya gonna do_ and Eddie only nods, partly understanding what she means. “There’s five of them, I think, and I love them like—“ She laughs randomly, “Well, I was gonna say family, but I hate my family.”

“Me too.” He agrees only slightly. His mother was his only family. Did he hate her?

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Yes._

He didn’t know.

She extends her arm and points her index finger towards the direction they were walking. “This is where we usually hang out.”

Eddie doesn’t understand how he hadn’t noticed them approaching a lunch table until now. It’s near these abandoned looking bleachers, and a few people sit there, laughing at something Eddie suddenly is interested in.

“Hey guys,” Beverly greets when they meet the table. Eddie feels everyone’s attention turn to them and he feels his pulse race a little faster. “This is Eddie. It’s his second day of hellhole high and he’s gonna hang out with us.”

“Cool,” One of them says, nodding their head back and forth. He has bright blue eyes, Eddie observes immediately.

Eddie gives everyone a tight smile, tightening his hold on his backpack straps. “Hi.”

He feels their eyes on him and he almost wants to shrink into himself, immediately regretting going to school that day, but then another one of the boys speaks up: “Man, is taking in new kids part of your guys’ community service or something?” He jokes. He has light brunet hair, kind, hazel-green eyes, and a warm smile, Eddie notices. “I’m Ben. I was the new kid before you came here.”

“Oh, you’re Beverly’s boyfriend right?” He asks, half pointing a finger in realization.

Ben blushes and looks away with a smile on his face, abashed obviously. “That’s me.” Beverly laughs along with Eddie and sits down next to Ben, leaning over and kissing his cheek before motioning for Eddie to sit next to her. He sets his backpack down on the table and takes a seat, scooting over a bit to make enough room.

“I’m Michael Hanlon,” Another boy states, his eyes a warm brown. He reaches over Ben to hold out his hand meaning for Eddie to shake it, which he does. “But only substitutes call me that, so just call me Mike.” Eddie lets out a short, breathy laugh at his words.

“You t-tryna use a p-p-pick-up line on him?” The boy with the bright blue eyes asks, stealing Eddie’s attention away from Mike. “I’m Bill. Don’t mind him, he has a th-thing for new kids.”

“I do _not_ ,” Mike shakes his head and Ben laughs, choking on a bite of his half-eaten grilled cheese.

“Is that so?” Ben looks up at Mike and flutters his eye lashes. Beverly giggles and slaps his arm. It’s all such a normal teenage conversation that Eddie almost forgets about the voices.

“Gross,” Bill ignores them and motions to the curly haired boy next to him. “And this is—“

“I’m Stanley,” The boy cuts in, his tone a bit short and clipped but his eyes kind. “But you can call me Stan.”

“Hey,” Eddie says simply, unsure of what else to say. Everyone seems to know each other so well and Eddie feels like he shouldn’t be there, that he’s interrupting something private.

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Maybe you should just go._

Ben clears his throat. “So, how’d you guys meet?” He asks, his hand on Beverly’s but his eyes on Eddie.

Eddie knows Ben is just trying to make conversation, but he’s not going to tell them about how he hid inside the girl’s bathroom and met Beverly when he told her _she_ was in the wrong bathroom. “I... We—” He turns to her, his expression panicky.

“Oh, we have the same math class,” She saves him with a calm reply, the words easily spilling from of her mouth. And while it’s true, it’s a _lie._ She’s _lying_ for him.

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _She’s saving your ass that’s what._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _She probably already told them yesterday. That’s what._

“Ugh,” Bill moans suddenly.

“What?” Mike furrows his eyebrows and looks at him weirdly.

“Math,” Bill covers his face with his hands. “I have a t-t-test next period.”

Stan rolls his eyes and steals two fries off of Mike’s lunch tray, earning a _hey!_ “It’s only twenty-five questions, Bill, and they’re all multiple choice. You’ll be fine.” He hands a fry to Bill.

“Yeah _, but,”_ Bill groans, eating the fry unhappily. “Richie c-canceled last night. So I d-d-didn’t get to study.”

“You could have studied without him, stupid,” Mike laughs, his words possibly a bit rude but his tone and expression the opposite. Eddie recognizes the name Beverly mentioned in the bathroom.

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Who’s Richie?_

“Who’s Richie?” Eddie finally asks.

“The final addition to our little group,” Beverly explains, taking a sip of Ben’s flavored, carbonated water. “He didn’t come to school today.”

“Oh.”

Stan shakes his head. “You say addition but the term _attachment_ comes to my mind. Like a leech. A parasite,” He tries to pick another fry from Mike’s lunch but Mike swats his hand away, muttering something about how he should have brought his own damn food.

“Oh, shush,” Beverly leans across the table and quickly steals the last of Mike’s fries, causing him to gape at her. She points a fry at Stan. “And I’m telling him you said that.”

_“Oh no,”_ Stan feigns worry, his voice sarcastic and monotone as he holds his hands up in defense. The table laughs. Mike does not, only looking down at his now empty lunch.

“I _asked_ you guys if you wanted anything and every single one of you said no,” He crumbles the napkin between his hands. “And now all my fries are gone. Thanks.” They all laugh again. Ben throws a chip at him.

They’re an odd group, Eddie thinks as minutes and minutes pass by. They laugh at strange things and insult each other in the friendliest of ways. And Eddie loves it. And as the minutes and minutes pass by, Eddie feels himself becoming more and more relaxed, saying something here and there that made the whole group laugh or agree with him. It’s nice to have people appreciate you, he realizes.

The bell later rings, to Eddie’s discontent, and everyone waves their goodbyes. “S-See you tomorrow!” Bill waves to Eddie.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow!” Ben adds.

“Bye, Eddie!” Mike and Stan smile.

Eddie waves back at them all, a dumb smile plastered on his face. Soon it’s just Beverly left, and she’s packing her stuff up in her bag when he notices the stitching on her bag again.

“Hey,” Eddie points at Beverly’s bag. “If you don’t mind me asking, what does that mean? Paper Boats.”

“Oh,” Beverly shrugs the bag up to show the stitching off more. “Kind of a group thing. You’ll see.” She doesn’t further explain so he only nods. “Bell rang. You wanna get to class?” She asks.

He motions to his own bag still atop of the table. “Yeah, but just go on without me,” He says. “I have to pack my stuff up.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Just go, I’ll be fine. You’ll be late,” He laughs.

She shakes her head. “Alright. Bye, Eddie. Cool hanging out with you today.”

His chest tightens. “You too. You’re all cool.”

“You’re the coolest,” She waves and walks away. “Later, new kid.”

“Later, Beverly,” He replies too quiet for her to hear. And when she leaves, Eddie goes back to his backpack. He zips it up, sits down at the table and cries.

…

“You’re asking me if I want to go get an _ice cream?”_

It’s after school, and Eddie’s talking with the boy again, just as they planned. A bird tweets nearby, selfishly adding itself into the conversation. It was a pretty yet annoying tune that reminded him of the boy.

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Really pretty._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _But annoying._

“Yeah!” The nameless boy responds enthusiastically as if it were a simple suggestion. “There’s this super sweet place—31 Flavors or something—and it’s not that far from here. You won’t even need your bike.” He assures.

Eddie shrugs. “Uh. I don’t know,” He answers honestly, completely taken off guard by the out of the blue proposal.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” He replies, insistent and Eddie doesn’t know why. “I’m in the mood to get a sundae. Maybe some chocolate caramel drizzle. Mm.”

“Then go yourself.” Eddie suggests.

“By myself? When there is a perfectly perfect cute boy up for grabs to go?” He shakes his head. “That’s absurd.”

Eddie turns beat red and looks away. “Stop saying things like that. And I’m not,” he imitates the boy’s voice in a lower tone, “ _up for grabs to go._ My mom won’t let me.” He says softly, pulling at strings now.

“Look,” The boy taps his fingers rhythmically against the wooden fence he’s now oh so acquainted with. “If you _really_ don’t wanna go then I won’t force you. But your driveway’s empty— mommy dearest will never know. And,” He shrugs, a sly smile on his face, as if he just _has_ to include the next sentence “I already asked her to go with me first but she said she was too tired from last night.”

Eddie rubs his arm nervously, looking back at his house. “What time do you think we’ll be back?” He asks, worried that she’d be home when he got back.

“Like I said, it’s not that far, and what time is it, like three? Probably four thirty. Maybe five.” The boy thinks for a second. “Depends. Ya wanna go?”

Eddie turns back to look at his backdoor, wondering what his mother would think if she was home. If she knew what Eddie was going to say. He shivers and turns back to the boy who was still awaiting Eddie’s response. “Okay.”

The boy’s eyes light up and he grins another wide smile. And then he’s gone again. Eddie stands there for a moment, confused and wondering if the boy had been just kidding. But then a minute later, the boy’s voice calls out: “You coming?”

He was in the front yard. Waiting for him.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Go, goob, go!_

Eddie shakes his head, unable to believe what he’s about to do. Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t hide things from his mother. He doesn’t go to ice cream shops with people whose name he doesn’t even know and his heart doesn’t pound so much from one simple human interaction. Yet Eddie Kaspbrak and his heart are doing all of these things. He moves to the back gate, having to use a bit of force to slide it open.

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Your mom will kill you if she finds out._

_She’s not going to,_ he slams the gate shut with a huff, once he’s outside, and turns around to face the front yard.

He’s tall, is the first thing Eddie notices. He’s tall, and not just taller than Eddie, because mostly everyone was, but _tall._ Like maybe six feet tall. His limbs are gangly, his arms hanging loosely by his sides, but for some reason it fits. He attires a yellow and blue graphic tee and an ugly, pink Hawaiian flannel, the two designs clashing together in the tackiest abstract manner. His dark, denim jeans (the boy has legs now) bear several holes and rips, but they look purposeful and proud. His shoes (the boy has feet too) are dirty, dark blue tennis shoes. Eddie can’t remember a brand they suit.

“Come on, spaghetti, we’re burning daylight! The place only stays open for so long,” The boy cuts Eddie out of his thoughts, meeting his eyes with a toothy grin. “Like what you see?” He teases. Eddie remembers the tacky outfitted giant was also the mysterious trashmouth that had decorated his backyard fence.

“Yeah right.” He says, noticing that the boy has taken a few steps towards him. Now they were only a foot apart. “Which way are we going?”

“Just past the horizon, over yonder.” The boy points a direction that Eddie follows with his eyes.  “That way. Follow me.”

And follow him Eddie does. They walk side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other here and there, and each time, a bundle of goose bumps hits Eddie’s skin. And it’s so _weird_. Weird to be walking with someone he doesn’t know to somewhere he doesn’t know and he doesn’t know why. Who knows?

“You like the flowers?”

Eddie looks up at him, expecting a joke, but the boy’s expression is serious and soft. “What?”

“There you go with those _what’s_ again,” The boy laughs now. He scrambles his hand around in his pocket, digging for something, and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “The yellow roses in your backyard.” He explains. “You like ‘em?”

“Oh,” His heart races, not used to being this close to him. “Yeah. Kind of a weird coincidence, actually. They’re my favorite.” Eddie says and tugs on his sweater’s sleeve, feeling like he’s overshared.

The boy shakes his head, popping a cigarette in his mouth. “No such thing as coincidence. Being neighbors just t’was meant to be.” He cocks the cigarette box to Eddie in a silent offer.

Eddie scrunches up his nose. “No thank you. I’d like to live until at least thirty, thanks.”

Pushing the box back into his pocket and retrieving a lighter, the boy lights his cigarette and takes a drag. “I’m aiming for twenty—nine.” He hums. “What’s your favorite color?” Asks the boy, randomly.

Eddie is caught off guard. "What?"

"Your _favorite color._ You know what colors are, right? Red, blue, purple, orange, green... you've got the whole rainbow and then some."

Eddie is not stupid. He knows what colors are. “I got it," Eddie says defensively, wondering why he changed the topic so arbitrarily. “Uh. Blue, I think. Why?”

The boy ignores his question. “Oh, hey, that’s my favorite color too! But I like more of a dark blue. Navy blue. Like your jacket,” He rambles and Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but then he’s talking again. “Light blue’s cool and all, but it’s not really my thing.”

“I took a color theory class last year,” He tries. But the conversation is really all over the place and he’s not sure he can keep up.

“ _Ooh_ , color theory class.” The boy flicks some ash off of his cigarette before taking another drag. “Does that mean you can tell my entire life story just by knowing I like the color blue?”

Eddie lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”

He waits for a response but the boy only stares at him. Just stares. “What?” Eddie asks insecurely, putting his hands in his warm coat pockets.

“That’s the first time you’ve genuinely laughed at something I’ve said,” The boy says, a soft twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh,” Eddie looks down and kicks a pebble with his feet, watching it skitter a few feet ahead of them. “Well maybe if you were funnier I’d laugh more often.”

The boy claps his hands together with a laugh. “Spitfire Kaspbrak makes a guest star appearance,” He mimics a microphone with his cigarette free hand and holds it up to Eddie. “Tell me: how’s it feel to return after being trapped inside normal Eddie for so long?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and pushes the boys hand down, instantly feeling an electrical shock from their soft touch. “You’re so dumb,” He blushes and puts his hand back in his pocket.

Taking another drag, the boy chuckles and replies, “Takes one to know one.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense, you trashmouth.”

Their playful back and forth conversation goes on for a while until they reach a shopping center. The boy points towards one of the stores. “See? Told you it wasn’t that far.” Now all they have to do is cross the street. He tosses his cigarette to the ground and puts it out with his foot. “Come on. This way.”

The boy steps a foot out onto the road but Eddie grabs a hold of his shirt, dragging him back onto the sidewalk with great force. “What on earth are you doing?!” Eddie sputters.

“Uh.” The boy points a thumb towards the shopping center. “Getting ice cream.”

“Why are you walking across the middle of the road? There’s a cross walk just a little more that way!” He exclaims.

“Yeah, but it’d be quicker if we just jaywalked really quickly.” The boy explains calmly, looking down at Eddie’s fingers entangled in his flannel.

_“Jaywalked?_ ” Eddie’s jaw drops. “Do you know how incredibly _unsafe_ that is? Not to mention illegal!” He lets go of the boy’s shirt and is now flailing his arms around in distress. The boy only blankly stares at him. “Can we please just—”A car whips by them. “See! That could have hit us!”

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Oh dear, what have you gotten yourself into?_

“Eds, relax,” He speaks calmly. “I’ve done this a hundred billion gazillion times. You can trust me.”

Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do this. I’m going to the cross walk,” He turns away and begins to walk towards the crosswalk when he feels a soft touch on his hand. Eddie whips his head back to the boy and looks down only to see he’s taken his hand. A warmth cascades throughout Eddie’s body from the simple touch and he lets out a small exhale, embarrassed.

“Hey, trust me.” The boy repeats, his voice warm and trustworthy. Eddie swallows thickly and slowly nods his head, focusing on the boy’s soft touch to ground him. His hand was rough, but not unpleasant, and Eddie greedily soaks up the contact.

**_CRAZY GLUE_** : _R.I.P. Edward Kaspbrak. He died trusting a stranger, which is exactly what his mother warned him not to do all sixteen years of his life._

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _You don’t have to do this. Don’t do this._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Rest in peace, honey. You truly were the hottest._

“Look, we wait until there are no cars,” The boy continues in a narration, guiding Eddie. The boy looks both ways, thank God, before screaming, “And then we— _go!”_

Hand in hand, the boys race across the street, fast, fast, fast, and _Eddie_ ends up being the faster one, sprinting for dear life and tugging the boy along with him. When they safely reach the other side on the sidewalk, Eddie wheezes out the biggest breath he thinks he’s ever exhaled, his heart a broken jackhammer.

“See that wasn’t that bad.” The boy laughs, breathless.

At Eddie’s loud gasps and wheezes, the boy turns toward him. “You okay?” He asks, concern in his eyes. Their hands are still intertwined, Eddie hasn’t forgotten.

Eddie nods, blushing a bit. “M’fine." He shrugs and takes deeper intakes of breath, balancing himself.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Stupid lungs. You don’t actually have asthma so stop acting like you do._

“You sure you’re okay?” The boy answers, eyes and attention on Eddie.

“Yes, I’m sure.” He assures, disliking the worry in the boys eyes. His mother worried enough for the both of them and then some. “Now where’s that magical ice cream you keep whining about?”

The boy continues his gaze on Eddie a little longer before announcing, “Next stop, flavor town!”

If their hands stay together as they keep walking, no one says anything about it.

Bells jingle when they walk in, alerting the cashier that someone had entered, and they are greeted with a bright and kind hello. The place has bright pink walls with cartoon characters and witty puns like _freeze the day_ and _wear your sundae best_ plastered all over them.  

The cashier smiles at them. “How may I indulge in your frozen fantasies today?”

“Hello, I would like one double chocolate fudge sundae with extra chocolate drizzle, please.” The boy orders. “Thanks.”

Then it’s Eddie’s turn and he realizes he has brought no money with him. Embarrassed, he pulls his hand away from the boy’s and shakes his head in chagrin, feeling his face heat up, “Oh, fuck, I forgot to bring money. Sorry.”

“No worries. I’ll pay,” The boy replies nonchalantly, already pulling out his wallet.

“You sure?” Eddie asks weakly and the boy nods. “Okay, uh,” He turns to the patient cashier, a thin smile still on her face as she awaited Eddie’s order. “I’ll have mint n’ chip, please. In a cone.”

The woman nods and once they finish specifying the specifics, the boy hands her the total in cash when something catches Eddie’s eye. It’s a picture in the boy’s wallet, and the faces in the picture look oddly familiar.

“Who’s in the picture in your wallet?” Eddie asks while they wait for their dessert, curiosity getting the best of him.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Curiosity killed the cat, you know._

The boy opens up his wallet more and presents it towards Eddie. “Me and my friends when we were younger,” He explains. The kids in the photo look about eleven or twelve years old and _so_ familiar _..._ “That’s me,” He points to a kid with big glasses and buck teeth. “I was a sight for sore eyes, no? And that’s Mike,” He points to each one of their faces and as he speaks, Eddie suddenly understands, “Ben, Big Bill, Stan, and Bev.”

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _It’s Beverly’s group._

**_SEXY LADY:_** _They said they had one more group member_ …

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _(acting as Beverly) He didn’t come to school today._

**_AUNT BEE:_** _His name was_ —

“You’re Richie.” Eddie realizes out loud.

The boy— _Richie_ cracks a smile so wide that Eddie fears his cheeks might explode. “Huh, didn’t take you for a psychic. Gotta add that one to the list.” He puts the wallet back into his pocket.

“I hung out with your friends today,” Eddie explains. The nice woman hands them their order of ice cream and they leave, thanking her out the door.

“They talk about me?” Richie asks, taking a bite of his pure sugar.

Eddie thinks for a moment. “Yeah. One of them, Bill, was pretty upset you guys didn’t study last night or something,” He remembers, licking a melting side of his ice cream.

“Something came up, but Billy’s always impatient,” Richie doesn’t explain any further, but takes a heaping spoonful of his ice cream and holds it up to Eddie, “Want some?”

“No thanks.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’ve got my own anyway.” _And did you know how many germs you could get from sharing the same meal? My mouth to touch the spoon even though his already has? Disgusting._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Keep telling yourself that._

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

Eddie’s about to respond to himself when he catches Richie watching him with an odd flicker in his expression, “Do I have something on my face?” He asks, wiping his chin with his hand.

Richie quickly shakes his head. “No, you’re fine.”

“We should have got napkins,” Eddie sighs. Now he was going to have to be extra careful with his ice cream, though he had a few wipes in his fanny pack. But he wasn’t going to admit that out loud. Having a fanny pack was embarrassing enough.

After a few minutes of eating their ice cream and walking back (using the crosswalk this time to Eddie’s relief), Richie speaks up, holding up his cherry string: “Wanna see me tie the cherry knot with my tongue?” They had both finished the rest of their dessert.

“What?” Eddie looks up in repulsion, “No! That’s so disgusting.”

“They say if you can tie the knot of a cherry with your tongue, it means your tongue is good at other things.” Richie winks and Eddie pretends to dry heave. Richie plops the string into his mouth. “Hold on,” He says, moving his mouth around in a funny manner, eyes squinted in concentration.

“Ew, gross. Richie!” Eddie yelps when Richie pulls the string out of his mouth, which was now looped in a nice knot, a lot like Eddie’s shoes. Richie brings it closer to Eddie’s face, which only makes him squeal more. “Don’t you dare!” He dodges the spit-covered string.

“What? You don’t wanna see it?” Richie teases, wagging it in front of Eddie’s face. He brings it closer to Eddie’s face and Eddie can _smell_ it and—

With the lightest of touches, the string softly pokes Eddie’s face.

Eddie shrieks and scrubs his face with his sticky fingers in attempt to rub it off, _“You’re so fucking gross!”_ He yells, running away in full sprint for the second time that day.

Richie runs after him with a loud laugh, “I’m sorry!” He pants. “It only wanted to say hello!”

“Fucking _ew!”_ Eddie cries, feeling Richie coming up behind him. He runs faster, a slight bundle of giggles escaping him. The whole situation was quite dumb, honestly.

Because it’s this: Richie chasing Eddie home and Eddie running away from Richie in utter repulsion, but both having to take several breaks because they were laughing too hard. By the time they reach their houses, they’re both out of breath and sore for giggling so much.

Instead of walking either one back to their front door, they go to the backyard and speak behind the fences again as if it was custom.

“Sorry for touching your face with the cherry string,” Richie pants over the fence, struggling to stay up.

“No you’re not,” Eddie gasps with a laugh, his body slightly shaking from the unexpected exertion he had put on it. Richie doesn’t disagree with him, only smiling so wide his eyes crinkled up. “Asshole,” Eddie shakes his head. “Anyways, I gotta go inside soon. My mom will be home and I gotta act like I didn’t just run a half marathon.”

“I had a good time,” Richie pats the fence twice as if letting it know it had done a good job. As if he was saying _thank you for supporting my body, wooden contraption._ And, hey, maybe he was.

“Yeah, me too.” Eddie admits truthfully. His throat burns from the activity but his mouth is sweet, filled with a reminder of their fun activities. And it was odd because Eddie Kaspbrak didn’t jaywalk. He didn’t eat ice cream before dinner. He didn’t hang out with boys who touched him with spit-covered cherry strings. And Eddie Kaspbrak definitely doesn’t _enjoy_ these things. But he does. And the fact almost scares him.

“Glad to know you at least like a little bit of me,” The boy says suddenly.

Scared he’s spoken out loud, Eddie asks, “And why would you think that?”

“You said blue’s your favorite color, right? Well I’m wearing blue shoes, some blue on my shirt, uh,” He thinks. “Jeans are blue, right?”

“Bye, Richie,” Eddie laughs again.

“Bye, spaghetti,” The boy smiles kindly and Eddie wishes his heart wouldn’t pound so fast. And then Richie disappears from the fence again, but Eddie isn’t disappointed this time. He’s happy. For the first time in a long while, he’s _happy._ Really and truly happy.

When Eddie’s mother comes home a half-hour later and asks how his day was, he says it was okay. That it was boring. That he didn’t do much.

And it’s a _lie_.


	4. pegasus

The following day, Eddie waits for Richie again after school. Richie never shows up and Eddie thinks maybe he’s just busy.

But then Richie doesn’t show up the next day. Or the day after.

And then it’s Friday, and there’s still no sign of the curly-haired, freckle-faced trashmouth, only a flutter of leaves in his place, and Eddie can’t help but feel a small tinge of hurt.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _I mean, you guys never made this whole ‘let’s meet up in the backyard at sunset’ thing official, so he really didn’t do anything wrong._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Maybe he just didn’t think you’d assume to wait for him._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Yeah, I doubt he means it personally._

_I know I just…_ his thoughts trail off as he leaves the backyard, alone, only the strong feeling of dissatisfaction and embarrassment as his company besides the Voices.

_…wanted to see him._

Saturday rolls around, and before he knows it, he’s brushing his teeth for the third time that day and kissing his mother goodnight. He’s about to change into his night clothes when he hears a sharp _clink_ noise come from somewhere. He spins around —looking for what could have possibly made that noise— and sees nothing.

He waits a beat, just to see if maybe he had imagined it, and starts to turn away, but then the sound comes _again_. And again. It seems to come from… outside his window? Scared and confused, he walks nervously up to his window on Bambi legs. It’s too dark to see anything through the thick glass so he unlocks and opens the window, looking down at his front yard only to see—

“Oh gosh, spaghetti, it’s nice to see you, but I was sort of hoping this would be your mom’s room. Should I try the next window to the left?”

“Richie,” Eddie breathes, partly in half-shock but also confusion, questions dancing around in his head. _Where have you been all week? Have you been ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?_ _Was I stupid for waiting for you?_ “Wh—what are you doing here?” He asks instead, having to stage-whisper for Richie to hear him all the way down there. He checks behind him, scared his mother will burst in any second.

“Come down here and I’ll tell you,” Richie replies as if it’s no big deal.

Eddie furrows his eyebrows and tightens his grip on the window pane, his back already a bit sore from leaning down. “Come _down_ _there_? At this time? Are you serious? My mom—”

“Won’t know a thing!” Richie interrupts with a crooked grin and takes a step towards the house. He then whispers the last part as if it’s a secret, “Can’t you just sneak out?”

“Wh— _just_ sneak out?” Eddie exhales, a bundle of nerves attacking him. _He says it like it’s so easy._ “Are you insane? Why can’t you just talk to me tomorrow, during the day, like a normal person?”

“Guess I’m not a normal person,” Richie replies mischievously, taking a nonchalant drag from one of his infamous cigarettes.  “And this is a night thing, hence the word _night_. Can’t wait until tomorrow. _”_

“I…” Eddie was running out of excuses. He bites his bottom lip and looks up at the stars in thought.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Night thing? What the hell does that mean?_

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _I have an idea._

_Stop. Don’t think like that._ He hopes Richie can’t see his blush from all the way down there.

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _It’s probably a party or something. You hate parties. Don’t go. Say goodnight and close your window._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _I think you should go. When are you ever going to get a chance to do something like this again?_

He looks back down to Richie, who’s still awaiting his answer. “I can’t,” He replies lamely.

Richie lets out a dramatic sigh and feigns hurt, “Fine…guess I’ll be all by myself… all alone…” He pauses for dramatic effort and Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes at Richie’s dumb antics, “…no one to protect me from the awful horrors of the outside world at night…”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Protect him?_

Letting out a heavy sigh, Eddie finally speaks up, as nonchalantly as he can muster, “How… how long would we be gone?”

At Eddie’s response, however, Richie’s face lights up, and Eddie wishes he would have said yes earlier. “As long as you want! Thirty minutes. An hour. Maybe two. Forever?” Eddie pretends to glare and Richie raises his hands up in surrender, “Okay, maybe not that long. But it’s a yes then? You’ll go?”

Eddie sighs and places his hands on the window frame nervously. “Give me a sec,” He says quickly. As he pulls back and shuts his window, he hears Richie whooping outside through the glass, and blushes.

His thoughts are all over the place.

 ** _AUNT BEE:_** _This is a mistake. It’s late. You’re gonna be exhausted. You’re mom_ —

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Is out cold! Dead to the world! She’ll never know. Why’re you trying to convince yourself into not going? We all know you really want to hang out with this guy._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Because he’s nervous._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _And why would he be nervous?_

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Because he likes him._

Eddie quickly slides on his usual shoes, tying them tightly, who knew what they would be doing. _I mean… We’ve only talked a few times so I don’t really_ —

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Noo, goob. She means like a crush._

Eddie doesn’t even pause, he only rolls his eyes, because the idea of him having a crush on Richie is just absolutely _ridiculous_. He’s only ever _thought_ he liked one boy, and that did not end very well. “I,” He hums, grabbing a coat, “do _not_ have a crush.”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Maybe not a full one, yet. But there’s definitely something there._

_No there’s not!_ He shakes his head and chuckles, though he’s feeling the small, familiar feeling of anxiety sweep through him. _You know I’m not… I’m not gay, okay?_ He thinks his thoughts quietly, as if they can be heard. _And just because I talk with someone doesn’t mean I instantly like them._ Leaving his room, he shuts his door oh so softly behind him and makes his way downstairs. _Also, I barely know him,_ Eddie argues as he hops off the last step, sliding on his sweater, cheeks burning. _How could I have a crush on someone I barely know?_

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _You tell us. You’re the one wearing the sweater that he said was his favorite color._

_I_ — But then he looks down at the navy-blue sweater he’d just put on. His heart skips at the memory.

_‘Hey, that’s my favorite color too! But I like more of a dark blue. Navy blue. Like your jacket!_ _’_

That doesn’t mean anything.

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Doesn’t matter. Hurry up, he’s waiting for you._

Shaking his head again, as if the jolty motion will erase his thoughts like an Etch-A-Sketch, he tries his best to slyly unlock and open the front door. When the door opens with a soft squeak, he quickly makes his way outside and shuts and locks it behind him as quiet as can be.

_You do not have a crush on Richie._

“You sure know how to keep a man waiting,” comes a familiar voice to his far left.

_You most definitely do not have a crush on Richie._

Eddie squints, trying to find Richie’s figure in murkiness of nightfall, and his eyes land on the shadowy outline of a tall and lanky figure walking towards him. After a few seconds, Eddie can finally make out his features with help from the house’s front porch lights and hears a “Ready to go?” escape from Richie’s mouth. Richie points a thumb behind him, but Eddie doesn’t see what he’s motioning to because he’s still looking at his face. Richie’s face is slightly pink from the cold and his eyes are a bit tired. He is perfectly lovely.

_Fuck._

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie stutters and quickly diverts his gaze away from Richie’s face to see what he’s pointing at. Parked in front of Eddie’s house is a maroon colored pickup truck. Or at least that’s what it was supposed to be. The car is run down, paint chipped, and dust covers it like an avalanche. And that’s what Eddie can see from _afar_. “What is _that_?” He blurts out before he can stop himself.

“What?” Richie looks back at the hunk of junk. “Bessie?”

Eddie chokes, _“Bessie?”_

“Okay, so I haven’t decided on a name,” Richie admits with a dramatic sigh, putting his hands on his hips and resting his weight on one leg. “Haven’t really found a title that I find suits her elegance quite yet.”  

Eddie crosses his arms and looks at the car again, “You’re crazy if you think I’m stepping a foot in that thing, let alone let you to drive with me in it.” He’s being a bit mean, he knows, but he’s not about to get into this car and possibly risk his life just because his neighbor invited him for a night out on the town.

“Eds, you wound me!” Richie grabs at his shirt, clutching at his chest, pretending to be in pain. “You know, maybe I’ll call her Spitfire. In your honor.” He taps his chin, as if he’s considering it. When Eddie doesn’t drop his frown, Richie speaks again, “Hey, I’d suggest we walk, but where I want to take you is too far. It’s too cold and dark to walk anyways.” At Eddie’s silence, he continues, “Also, I can get more practice in for my driving test coming up.” If he’s trying to convince Eddie to come with him, he’s doing a very poor job at doing so.

Eddie’s eyes widen. “You don’t even have a _license?”_ He blanches. “And you expect me to let you drive with my life in your hands?”

Richie looks back at the truck, “Well, when you put it that way...”

“No way,” Eddie scoffs and shakes his head.

“Oh, pretty please, Eds?”

 ** _CRAZY GLUE:_** _You should be walking away right now._

“I swear I’ll drive extra-safe. Just for you.”

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _You should be closing the front door behind you, running back up to your room to get ready for bed._

“I’ll even look into investing in a little bumper sticker that’s says something like ‘ _caution: cute boy aboard’._ ”

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _You should be in bed right now._

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Asleep._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Alone._

_Lonely._

“You promise?” Eddie interrupts Richie’s whines.

Richie’s whines cease and his voice jumps back into its normal, playful tone. “Promise what? That I’ll get a bumper sticker that says—”

“No!” Eddie flushes. “That… that you’ll drive extra-safe.” _Just for you._ Just for _me._

Eddie feels a bit embarrassed that he’s so keen on requesting such a simple thing, but Richie’s expression softens and he looks Eddie gently in the eyes, cheeks still a bit pink and lips chapped from the chilly weather.

“Yeah, Eds. I promise.”

And then Richie’s opening the passenger door for him with a quiet, “Your Highness,” to which Eddie snorts and ignores him. It’s not that bad on the inside, Eddie thinks as he waits for Richie to join him. There’s a bit of a clutter of crumbled papers on the floor, and a fairly large blanket stuffed in the back, but besides that, it’s surprisingly clean. Eddie wonders if Richie made sure to tidy up before he had someone else inside it or if it was just always this tidy.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Don’t act so special. You’re not the only person he’s driven around in the dead of night._

And while Eddie’s heart sinks a bit at that idea, he can’t help but realize it’s probably true and that he was just most likely just being used as a past-time via Richie. Eddie flushes the thoughts away when Richie slides in next to him, humming an unrecognizable tune under his breath. Eddie averts his gaze and focuses on watching the Hawaiian lady bobble-head that decorates the dashboard. Sliding keys into the ignition, the truck roars to life and Eddie quickly buckles himself, gripping the sides of the seat tightly in anticipation. Then they are _moving._

The Hawaiian lady bobble-head dances.

There’s something so weird about driving at night, Eddie realizes. He’s has never done it before. His mother never went out after dark, and Eddie never had any friends to do it with, so he’s not so sure how to feel about the whole thing. It’s quite anti-climactic, but Eddie guesses he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. Richie’s actually a pretty good driver. Within the first few minutes of them driving, as much as Eddie’s reluctant to admit it, he manages to prove himself worthy of driving with Eddie’s life in his hands. He’s goes a bit faster than Eddie’s mother, but he’s also a bit more nonchalant. He turns on the radio and rolls his window down whereas Eddie’s mother always kept the windows closed and music off, always telling Eddie she needed to _focus_ on the road and that she couldn’t deal with all those _distractions_. But here, music turned on softly, window’s cranked down, wind blowing a bit casually, Richie was focusing just fine.

Eddie tries to pay attention to where they were going, he really does, but the roads seemed to come out of nowhere, the headlights of the car only stretching so far ahead of them. Here, Eddie was lost, Richie being the only reason he wasn’t losing his mind. “I’m like your compass,” Richie teases as they turn an unrecognizable corner. Eddie tries to keep his composure.

He decides to focus his attention on Richie because he thinks that if he stares at the never-ending road any longer that he might have a panic attack. So he watches Richie. Richie; whose eyes do stay trained on the road ahead of him, much to Eddie’s delight, but only one hand on the steering wheel, much not to Eddie’s delight. Richie’s wearing this jean jacket with fuzzy, white wool on the inside, and Eddie thinks it’s such a stark constant from his loud Hawaiian shirt he had worn on their ice cream trip. Glasses slipping down Richie’s nose slightly, Eddie wonders if those glasses hurt, because they look so big on him, and in the middle of his wondering, Richie flickers his gaze over to Eddie for a split-second, eyes meeting, and Eddie quickly turns away, self-conscious, and decides to finally rest his attention to the scenery outside his window.

Attention on the scenery outside his window, but his thoughts still on Richie. For being such a trashmouth, he is surprising quiet, only making small comments here and there like ‘this is where I found a rock that looked like Harrison Ford’ and ‘this is where me and Bill had this race and I ended up falling off my bike and needing seventeen stiches’ and—

“You daydream a lot.”

The comment perks Eddie up from his thoughts— his daydreaming— and he turns to look at Richie, eyebrows furrowed in soft confusion, “Excuse me?”

Richie lets out a soft chuckle as he makes a left turn onto a road Eddie doesn’t recognize. “You daydream a lot. I’ve noticed.” Eddie plasters confusion on his face, as if to say _I have no idea what you’re talking about._ But he does. All too well, he does. At Eddie’s pretend perplexed expression, Richie further elaborates, “You always seem to be so lost in your thoughts.”

“Oh,” Eddie lets out a hum of understanding, though the laugh track in his head is laughing. He shrugs, “I guess.”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _He has no clue._

“It’s cute though,” Richie adds and Eddie wants to smack him on the shoulder, but he’s scared he’ll mess up his concentration, so he settles on rolling his eyes, a pattern of an action to Richie’s words, and mutters, “Shut up.”

But Richie only continues, totally disregarding Eddie’s little remark, “What are you thinking about?”

Eddie scoffs and instantly feels defensive, as if Richie _knows._ Knows about the shit show going on in his head. Knows that the Voices are silent right now, because Eddie is trying to think of how to respond. “Why do you wanna know?” He asks back as casual as possible.

“Just curious,” Richie replies, and now they’re at a stoplight. Richie turns towards Eddie, and asks again, “Why? You thinkin’ about me?”

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Tell him you’re thinking about the imaginary audience in your head._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Oh yeah, tell him that. Sure that’ll go over real well._

Eddie’s still thinking when a smug grin grows on Richie’s face, only further proving his point that Eddie was always lost in his thoughts. But quickly, Eddie blurts out, “Yeah and how you might’ve not been kidding the first day we met and you might actually be a murderer. And you’re taking me out to the woods to kill me and make sure to expose of my body for no one to see.” He hopes Richie doesn’t know that he’s totally lying. Well, half-lying. The fear is there.

The light turns green. Richie drives again and turns away from Eddie, eyes a bit wide in surprise, “Fuck, Eds, I was thinking, like, applesauce, or something.”

“Applesauce?” Eddie questions because _what the fuck._ He’s about to speak again when they hit a tiny bump in the road, but because of the speed they were going, it jostles the car a bit, “Slow down!”

But Richie, ever the comedian, only replies, “That’s not what your mom said last ni—”

“Richie, I swear to God, I will hop out of this car right now if you finish that sentence.” Eddie interrupts, crossing his arms. He doesn’t like to think about his mother right now. How she’s asleep right now, thinking Eddie is tucked away, safe and asleep in his bed. How he’s lying to her, and how he seems to be doing a lot of that lately.

“ _Relax_ , Spaghetti, I’m just Joshin’” Richie hums and he takes another corner. He then tilts his head a bit towards Eddie, sneaking him a crooked smile, “You can call me Josh because I’m always Joshin’ around.”

Eddie interrupts him mid-sentence to say “ _Oh my god,”_ because the joke is so _stupid._ He rests his forehead in his hands. “How much longer until we get to— wait, where _are_ we going?” Eddie asks, because Richie still hasn’t told him why he came to Eddie’s window in the first place. Richie doesn’t respond, using one hand to dig for something in the glove compartment, other hand on the wheel.

 _“Richie,”_ Eddie says his name in a warning tone, but he also says it just because he’s still relieved to finally match a name with the boy. _Richie. His name is Richie._ “Where are going?” Richie still doesn’t respond, but Eddie can see a stupid, closed-lip smile from the side of his face. “Oh God, you really are driving me out to the woods to kill me.”

Finally Richie responds, letting out a laugh. “You worry more than any person I’ve ever met, you know that? And I,” He pauses, letting out an breathy _aha!_ “have met _a lot_ of people.” He pulls out a casette tape and blows on it, dust flying everywhere. Eddie flinches away, letting out a disgusted noise, but Richie only dismisses him, sliding the tape into the car. “You’ve gotta chill out, Eds.” He points to the car radio, “This song will help you do that.”

“What song is it?” Eddie asks, shooing away the dust, holding his nose.

Richie suddenly slumps a bit in his seat and his voice gets a bit softer, “It’s a song that’s really close to me… been there for me in my lowest moments...” He trails off, a sad expression plastered gently on his face.

 _Oh._ Eddie’s heart melts a bit at Richie’s words, but then the beginning chords of _Africa_ by Toto fade in and Eddie’s eyebrows furrow. _This song is close to him?_ He turns to Richie, confused, and there is a pause of silence… before Richie begins to laugh loudly. Eddie lets out a loud exhale, “Oh, fuck you! You actually made me feel bad for you!” He yells to cover his embarrassment.

“Pity is a useless emotion, Eds!” Richie cheers, turning off the AC so he could roll down the windows. Eddie only slinks further into his seat, arms crosses and the faintest trace of a smile on his face. “This song is supposed to make you chill out, not stress you out even more!” He whines, turning the volume up.

“You fucking,” Eddie shakes his head, cutting himself off with a short huff of a laugh. He stares out the window, and he can’t help but serecretly wiggle his toes in sync with the catchy song. The music pours out of the car with a flood of rhythm, and a minute in, he allows himself to close his eyes, listening to the song and sinking into the moment.

They are driving, the destination still unknown, underneath the night sky, as many stars in the sky as there are freckles on Richie face, listening to one of the most cliché songs in the entire world, and as stupid as the situation sounds, Eddie opens his eyes and sees the wind from outside making Richie’s hair tangle around, flying in all different directions, and he decides he never wants to forget this moment. He just doesn’t.

_Yeah, okay. Maybe a small crush._

Richie turns to Eddie, the final chords of the song fading out, and sighs, leaning back in his seat. Eddie shifts in his seat a bit and tries to see where they are going. After a few minutes and all they pass by are orchards after orchards, he tilts his head towards Richie, “Hey, Richie? Seriously, where are we going?”

“Don’t worry bout it,” Richie answers without really answering, tucking a curl behind his ear. “We’ll be there soon.”

Eddie exhales, a mix of impatience and anxiety, “You aren’t really driving us anywhere, are you?”

“Sure I am! Look,” Richie points his finger and Eddie follows its direction, squinting to see what he’s motioning to. As the car proceeds a bit further, Eddie can make out a sign that says _, Tahoe Scotty’s Pumpkin Patch._

Eddie’s eyebrows squint in confusion, “You drove us out here to get _pumpkins?”_

“Yep,” Richie says, popping the _p_ noise with his lips, a bit too nonchalant.

Eddie doesn’t believe him. “You know Halloween’s not for another three weeks, right?”

“Two and a half.” Richie corrects confidently as he parks in the ghost town of a parking lot. “A little head start never hurt anyone.”

When Eddie grudgingly steps out of the car as to Richie’s request, he walks up to the sign, seeing more words written in smaller handwriting. He runs his fingers over the faded words, “Richie, it’s closed.” He says, sorry to break the news to him. “This place stays open from 7am to 5pm. It’s 11.”

“Eds, Eds, Eds,” Richie locks the car up and walks up to the barbed wire fence gates. He slides his fingers through the spaces, grabbing a hold of the gate, and turns around to look at Eddie, a sly grin creeping up on his face, “Have a little fun in you, will ya?”

It takes a second for Richie’s words to fully register. “Wait—” Eddie whips around to look at Richie in complete disbelief, “We’re not… we’re not _sneaking_ _in_ … are we?” His voice is a mere whisper, as if he’s afraid the police will pull up at any second. Eddie _hates_ the police.

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Not again._

Richie flashes him a grin. “You make it sound _so_ terrible—”

“And you make it sound so simple!” Eddie scoffs. “It _is_ terrible, Richie! It’s illegal,” Eddie whisper-shouts now, a bit of fear creeping up on him, “and we’re totally gonna get caught!”

One of Richie’s hands leave the fence

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _He really has a thing for fences, huh._

while the other keeps its grip. He swings his body out a bit, playfully, _“Eds,”_ He moans, drawing the nickname out with a whine. “For the hundredth millionth time, why can’t you trust me? Have I proven myself to not be trustworthy?”

“No,” Eddie quickly says, because he doesn’t want Richie to think he thought that.

“Then _trust_ me,” Richie pleads with his eyes. “We’re not gonna get caught, just keep the volume down a notch,” He mimics turning a volume button and Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh. “Here, I’ll tell you what, you’ll go first— no, don’t look at me like that, you haven’t heard what I’m gonna say! — you go first, okay, and I’ll follow right behind. In that case, if you fall I’ll catch you!”

Eddie figures he’s gone this far— why stop now? “Okay, okay, _fine_.” He walks over to Richie and points a finger at him, “But if we get caught, it’s all on you.” He places his foot onto one of the wires and slowly begins to climb his way up.

A few moments of climbing and almost-falling later, they are able to successfully make their way over to the other side, though Eddie’s landing is a bit messy. His foot misses the second to last step and he ends up slipping, landing on his hands and knees with an _oof._ The fall isn’t that far, the fence wasn’t that tall to begin with, so it doesn’t hurt very much, but Richie is leaning at his side in an instant. “Woah, Eds, you okay?” He holds out a helpful hand for Eddie to take. Eddie takes it, and tries not to think about how they’re basically holding hands again.

Richie helps hoist him up, and once he’s standing, he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He looks back up at Richie with a soft smile to signify that he’s alright, except his pride being a bit hurt. Richie eyes him a bit curiously, as if he’s trying to detect any hint of a lie. “Really, Rich. I’m okay,” he assures, letting go of his hand and brushing the dirt off of his pants with a forced nervous laughter.

He drops his gaze from Richie to look around and examine their surroundings. It is like a garden, but instead of pretty flowers, its pumpkins and pumpkins and —oh, look— more pumpkins. It’s dark, only the moon and a nearby street lamp sufficing as a light source, but Eddie can weakly make out the hay that covers the ground like party confetti.

After a pause, Richie finally whispers, “Alright, Eds.” He holds a finger to his lips and begins to slowly make his way through the patch. “ _Soyez tranquille et couchez-vous_.”

Eddie follows him and scrunches his nose. “What did you just call me?”

Richie laughs and walks up to an abnormally lumpy pumpkin, resting his hand on it. “I said be quiet and lay low,” He translates, letting his hand drops as he goes to investigate a few other pumpkins. “French,” He further elaborates.

“Oh. I take Spanish,” Eddie whispers in reply as he steps around a patch of hay.

“ _Ah_ , _señor_ , I see.” Richie replies, a Spanish accent dripping too easily from his lips.

Eddie can’t help it and lets out a snort of laughter, “Will you quit it? I thought you said to be _quiet_.” Eddie walks up to a few pumpkins and leans down, picking up a very, very small one. It fit in the palms of his hands. He stand up and cradles it in his palms, admiring it softly.

“Whatcha got there, Eds?” comes Richie’s voice from behind him, so he turns around and shows off the small pumpkin in his hands. “Oh— it’s so cute and small! Just like you!” Richie cheers, walking up to Eddie and looking at the pumpkin with interest. “You should name it _Eds_.”

“Absolutely _not,”_ Eddie shakes his head, letting out a breath of short laughter, scrunching his nose in distaste, “And keep your voice down, trashmouth. You’re such a hypocrite.”

“Alright, _alright._ As you wish, _”_ Richie takes a backwards step, hands up in surrender. Then his eyes widen as if he’s just realized something and a small grin makes its way to his lips, “— _pumpkin_.”

Eddie shoves Eds— fuck, the _pumpkin_ into his jacket pocket and eyes Richie enquiringly, “What’s with you and nicknames?”

Richie shrugs, shoulders bobbing up and down in a bouncy manner, “I dunno. What’s with you and worrying so much?”

“I don’t _worry so much,_ ” Eddie puts his hands on his hips. “I think perfectly logically. You’re just reckless.”

“ _Reckless,_ huh?” Richie grins wolfishly, looking at Eddie with small amusement.

“Yeah,” Eddie quips, chin up, and repeats himself, no fear: “ _Reckless.”_

“Maybe so,” Richie muses. He then looks back out at the field and so does Eddie; and it’s quite boring really. Rows and rows of pumpkins, a seemingly endless pattern of big, orange lumps that didn’t smell the greatest. But Richie lets out a swoon, “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” He gestures out to the pumpkins.

Eddie pretends to consider this for a hot second, taking a look at the field, before turning back to Richie and bluntly answering: “Yes.”

“ _What!”_ Richie’s curls fly in the air as he spins around back at Eddie as he feigns complete shock, eyes and mouth wide open, glasses sliding down his nose a bit. Eddie knows he’s acting dramatic but still lets out a quiet giggle. “Like _what?”_ Richie further pries, pushing his glasses back up.

“A lot of things,” Eddie shrugs and looks up at the sky. “The sky. The stars are really nice tonight.” He decides.

Richie grumbles in agreement, following Eddie’s gaze to the sky, “Yeah. Guess the moon is looking pretty hot tonight, yeah?” Eddie exhales, eyes trained on watching the numerous constellations above him. He decides they look the same as they did in California.

“Know any constellations?” comes Richie’s voice, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Eddie replies and points his finger at the sky. “That’s the Big Dipper— a little to the left… yeah, right there. The one that looks like a spoon, kind of,” He guides Richie. “That’s the moon,” He points to which Richie snickers.

“Ah, quite the astronomer,” Richie teases and Eddie shoves him, nudging him slightly with his shoulder.

“That one’s called Pegasus,” He points to a specific swarm of stars, “It’s my favorite. It’s named after the Greek Mythological creature— Pegasus, duh. Its eleven constellations but only eight of them are named. There’s Enif, the nose, Matar, they call it the lucky rein of shooting stars—” He lists them off, one by one. He often used to flirt with the idea of going to space one day, alone on the moon with no company but the possible Martians that roamed the celestial body. But now, in this moment, stargazing alongside Richie, the cold wind simmering down to a light breeze, he imagines Richie there with him, too.

After a few more seconds, Eddie realizes he’s been rambling and feels a hot flush rise to his face. He turns to Richie with the intent of apologizing, because he doubts Richie cares, but his words catch in his throat when he turns and sees that Richie isn’t staring at the sky— he’s been looking at Eddie.

Eddie insecurely shifts under Richie’s heavy state, heart flickering a bit, mouth opening and closing, not sure if he should say something. _Why is he looking at me like that?_ “Sorry for—” He starts, but stops when Richie takes a step closer towards him; faces now only a few inches apart, and his eyes look at Richie’s, which have an odd gleam in them. It’s weird to watch someone as they watch you, Eddie thinks, following Richie’s eyes as they follow them.

There’s silence. Then, ever so slowly, Richie raises a hand and reaches towards Eddie’s face, and suddenly all of his focus is on Richie’s movements.

 _He’s going to touch me,_ Eddie thinks.

Richie hesitates, letting his hand hang in the air between them, fingers outstretched as if he meant to touch him. Eddie’s breath hitches and his mind goes slightly haywire, buzzing like static, eyes never leaving Richie’s. With the slowest of slow movements, fingers tiptoeing in the air, Richie’s hand moves _ever so slightly_ towards Eddie’s cheek; the feather of a touch—

But then an angry voice calls out: _“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be here! Don’t touch my pumpkins!”_ And just like that, the moment, if you could call it a _moment_ , was over. Eddie is shook out of his haze as Richie grabs his hand and makes a beeline to the car, ignoring the yelling and shouting of an angry man. They both climb over the fence, both landing messily, and run to the car in a flurried rush, limbs trembling from anxiety. They drive off the second they’re both in the car, their quick breaths the only thing breaking the silence.

Richie drives a bit quick, as if he’s afraid the man is going to run after them, and Eddie grips onto is seat, a bit nervous. He thinks about how they got caught and how they could potentially be in big trouble.

And it starts really quiet, a mere stifle of a giggle between his closed lips, breath hitching a bit. Richie turns and furrows his eyebrows, asking a “What?” and that’s what really gets Eddie going. He lets out the smallest laugh, and Richie follows with a slight chuckle, and then Eddie sputters:

 _“Don’t t-touch my pumpkins,”_ He imitates the man’s voice in a funny way and suddenly they both burst into laughing hysterically, and Richie has to pull over because he can’t focus on the road. Eddie face begins to hurt a bit as his body shakes with laughter and he turns towards Richie, whose mouth is also curved upwards, eyes squinted, as he belts out a lovely laughter. And the moment is nice.

After the laughter dies down a bit, a comfortable silence rests through them. “So much for _soyez tranquille et couchez-vous_.” _,”_ Eddie sighs, completely butchering the pronunciation.

Richie snorts and begins to drive again, “Yeah, but it was fun, right? And look, we got Eds!”

Eddie remembers the pumpkin he took and pulls it out. “It’s bad enough you call me that. Now you have to put this on the poor pumpkin?” He shakes his head then pauses, looking at the pumpkin in horror, _“Oh my God, I stole a pumpkin.”_

Richie sputters a laughter and shakes his head, “Oh my fucking God, you really are that fucking cute.”

“I’m serious, Richie!” Eddie stammers, “God— why did we have to go at night and sneak in?”

“Because,” Richie says simply, “Everything’s prettier at night.”

Eddie considers his words as a joke, but then he suddenly, like a blast of a water gun, remembers the way Richie had been looking at Eddie before that guy had interrupted them. “Everything?” He questions.

A side of Richie’s mouth quirks up, “Yeah. _Everything.”_

After a beat of silence, Eddie speaks up again, “Even the sun?”

And then they’re laughing again.

…

They drive around a bit longer, Richie pointing out a few sights like parks and restaurants, but soon enough, Eddie lets out a soft yawn and Richie turns back around, deciding to call it a night. When they eventually arrive back at their homes, Eddie realizes how incredibly relieved he is at the fact the lights in his house are still off.

“Attention passengers, we have finally landed in our destination,” Richie says in a flight-attendance’s voice. “Thank you for riding the Spaghetti-mobile and we hope you come again next time.”

Eddie crinkles his nose at the name and unbuckles, “Yeah, thanks for sneaking me out so we could get in trouble for stealing pumpkins.” He holds _Eds_ out to Richie, “Here. You can have it.”

Richie shakes his head, “Nah, you keep it. A nice reminder of out late night escapades, no?”

Eddie sighs but relents and puts the pumpkin back in his coat pocket, “I guess.” He opens the car door and Richie does the same. Eddie had forgotten their houses were right next to each other. “Will there be another one?” Eddie asks as Richie locks up the car. It doesn’t seem that ugly anymore, just a bit of a fixer-upper.

“Another what?” Richie asks quizzically, shoving his keys in his pockets.

“Another... you know,” Eddie throws his hand up and gestures around them, “This.”

Richie shrugs, “Perhaps.” He grins smugly, “I thought you hated this car.”

“I _do_ ,” Eddie says sarcastically with a laugh. “But it’s not that bad.”

“Then yes, Eds. If you want, there will be a next time.” There it is again. _If you want._

Richie then holds his hand out, “Wait, give me _Eds_.”

Eddie stiffens a bit, “But I thought you said I could keep it.”

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Why do you care?_

“You can,” he replies. “Wanna see it for a sec.” After staring at Richie with questioning eyes for a moment, Eddie reaches in his pocket and pulls out the pumpkin, handing it to Richie. And then Richie goes back into his car and shuffles around for a bit.

“What… are you doing?” Eddie asks, the frost biting at his nose, and shivers.

“Here,” Richie mumbles as he gets out and locks up his car again. He hands the pumpkin to Eddie and Eddie takes it, confused, until he looks down and see that Richie has written his home number on it. “Only call on Wednesdays and Thursdays, okay?”

Eddie looks up at Richie with confused, “Why?”

“Because they’re the best days,” He simply replies and Eddie only shrugs. _Weird._

“Okay… Well, I’ve gotta go now.” He turns and looks back at his house which seemed to be saying _I know what you’ve done._

“Of course,” Richie says, “Tell the missus I send my deepest apologies. You see, I was supposed to be out with her instead of—”

“Nope,” Eddie covers his ears with his hands to block out his words and runs up to his front door, only vaguely hearing Richie laugh in the back. He pulls out his key and slides it into the door, giving Richie one last wave before stepping into the house and closing the door as quickly and quietly as possible. Although still in fear his mother would wake up and find him up any second, he still looks out the eyehole in the door to try and see Richie standing outside, but he was already gone.

He makes his way upstairs, feet as quiet as can be on the wooden floor, and runs into his room, shutting the door softly behind him. He then whips out _Eds_ , a pen, and a piece of paper, and writes down Richie’s number, afraid it would smear easily off the pumpkin. As he meant to do earlier, he changes into his night clothes and lies down in his back, mind still recapping everything that had happened that night. _I snuck out at night with a boy and almost got in trouble for stealing a pumpkin but I don’t really care about that because now I have his number on it._

Okay, maybe the _smallest_ of crushes.

(Eddie falls asleep with the pumpkin in his arms.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JOSHIN AROUND LMAO & also i didn't proofread so rip  
> warmth


	5. he's so pretty for a zombie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone. i.... cannot begin to explain how sorry i am that it's taken THIS LONG (nine-ish months!!!) to update this chapter but i've been dealing w a major case of writer's block and som other stuff u know how it is but ANYWAYS long story SHORT here is chapter five lemme know what u think in the comments below or don't but my ego needs it

It’s lunchtime, Monday of that following week. Eddie is hanging out with the losers, a now becomingly reoccurring event at every lunch hour, when he decides to pop a question that’s been plaguing his mind for the past few days. Nimble hands resting on the wooden picnic table and nervously playing with the dried up, yellow-green leaf he had picked from a pile on the ground a few minutes ago, Eddie slowly breaks off small bits as he finally asks, “Why is Richie never at lunch?”

The question is simple, thus he believes a simple answer would suffice as a reply. So he doesn’t expect the swift turn of all five of their heads looking at him as if he had grown a second.

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Head, you mean. A second head._

His unanswered question lingers in the air like mistletoe at a boys only, Christmas-themed Frat party— so obviously _there_ , but no one is too keen on acknowledging it. Eddie shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the ugly silence, crackling the leaf in his hand as if the harder he presses, the faster time will go.

Bill is the one brave enough to break the silence first, his stutter seemingly proven to be the strongest voice so far. “W-What do you mean?”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Yeah, what do you mean._

Eddie shrugs and innocently furrows his eyebrows, his face the perfect description of childlike curiosity.

“I mean, like, does he not hang out with you all or something? I’ve just never seen him here and… and the way he spoke about you guys made it sound like you all were still close.” His words are a bit scrambled but they leave his mouth easily, because they sound very harmless to him. He doesn’t feel like he’s asking a question about such a big deal. “Sorry if something happened,” he begins to apologize.

It’s Beverly that speaks next— sweet, kind Beverly— and she sounds a bit curious herself when she replies with a soft laugh, “No, nothing happened. We all still hang out. He’s just been absent lately.” She shrugs, a _what can ya do?_ accent in the gesture.

“Oh.” Eddie nods his head in understanding, then asks, “S’he okay?”

She waves her hand dismissively at him, a slight smile tugging on her lips, “Oh yeah, he’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.” Pausing for a second to take a sip of her chocolate milk, she then eyes him, one of her eyebrows raised playfully, “Why? Have you been _talking_ to him?”

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Something like that._

Cheeks filling up a bit with a pinkish hue, leaf in his hand crumbling to tiny, dispersed bits as he tears it apart nervously, he answers, “Kind of.” 

 _“Kind of?”_ Beverly repeats, amused. The others only stare at him blank faced; Stan semi-intrigued and obviously biting on the inside of his cheek, Mike chewing his granola bar in half interest, and Ben resting his head in the palm of his hand, eyes on him. So Eddie speaks again.

“We’re neighbors,” he further elaborates, looking down at the now disheveled leaf in his hand (a _murder)_. “I moved in right next door.”

There’s a quiet that passes through them, as if Death herself has just walked in and patted someone on the back, signaling that it was their time to go.

“Oh!” Beverly continues, setting her chocolate milk carton back down on the table. “Huh. We’ve never been to Richie’s house before.”

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _That’s a bit strange._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Friends all these years—_

_—and they’ve never been to his house,_ Eddie interrupts himself, resulting in the odd conclusion.

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Ask why not._

So he does. “Why not?”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Just have them fill out a fuckin’ questionnaire while you’re at it._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _I think you just like to complain._

Now it’s Mike that joins in. He shakes his head and puts on a playful frown as he says, “Never had to.” He then nods to Bill, “Billy’s house is the designated hangout area. That’s where we usually go when we all hang out.”

“Oh, yeah, _s-speaking of which_ ,” Bill chimes in again, pausing for a second to swallow his food. He looks at Eddie when he speaks next. “Next week, we’re all g-gonna go to the drive-in, meet up at m-m-my place first. You wanna come?”

“We’re gonna see _Heathers_ ,” Stan adds and in response, Mike mumbles a _hell yeah, Winona._

“Uh,” Eddie thinks for a second. “I’ll have to ask my mom.” He immediately cringes the second those words come out of his mouth.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _You sound like you’re an eight-year-old asking to go on a playdate with your friends._

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Go easy on him. That’s the last age he actually had friends._

“I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Ben says with a smile. Eddie wonders how he is always able to carry such positive energy.

Yet, his optimistic tone rubs off on him, so Eddie smiles back, “I hope so.”

A few minutes later, the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. But just as Eddie gets up to throw his garbage away, Beverly leans in towards him and whispers, “Richie will be there.” Trash in his hands, Eddie sits back down in his seat and turns to her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but before he can say anything, she speaks again:

“Just thought I should let you know.”

And then she’s up, throwing her own trash away, and as a few seconds pass, it’s Eddie that is still sitting down, mind stuck on wondering why she thought to tell him that. And why his heart found the information useful.

…

It’s Tuesday now, the next day. Eddie’s in English class and his mind is thinking about anything _but_ English. In fact, it’s thinking about _French_. And a certain boy who seems to know some of it.

He hasn’t seen Richie since the night of the pumpkin patch, but his mind still recalls the memory as if it had happened an hour ago; the scent of pumpkin seeds and hay not such a distant recollection. He wonders about calling Richie this week, the messy scrawl of his phone number on the pumpkin a reminder of what they had done, a reminder of the offer that still stands. He wonders what they’ll talk about, or if they’ll even talk at all. He wonders how Richie is doing, why he’s never here. He wonders if Beverly was telling the truth, if he really was okay. Eddie wonders about Richie in general. He’s been wondering about him a lot lately.

The door at the front of the classroom opens suddenly, and so Eddie’s instructor pauses her painfully long rant that he hasn’t been paying attention to. Eddie looks up half-interestedly, just a habit to see who is coming in, when his heart (almost quite literally) _lurches_ out of his chest.

It’s him.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Holy shit, maybe you are a psychic._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Or a psycho._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Or both._

_He_ shuts the door behind him and walks up to his (their?) teacher, handing her a note to which she takes without even glancing at him, almost annoyed, as if this is a common and usual happenstance. Eddie sits up a bit straighter, following Richie with his eyes as he makes his way to his seat. _That’s who sits there,_ Eddie realizes about the empty seat two rows and three spaces behind his own.

Though, almost immediately, Eddie can tell something is off in the way Richie carries himself. Instead of the bubbly persona he had acclaimed when they had gotten ice cream, and the daring, exciting behavior he had worn when they went to the pumpkin patch; today, Richie almost seems like the walking dead, his posture slumped and his hair a wild mess, more than usual, head tilted downwards, avoiding anyone’s stare. Eddie’s included.

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _He’s so pretty for a zombie._

When Richie sits down at his seat, Eddie turns around and faces him to see if he can try and catch his attention. But Richie never returns Eddie’s gaze. As minutes and minutes pass by, not once does he look up at him, or, Eddie realizes, not once does he even look up at all. Richie only stares at the top of his desk as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world, seemingly so consumed in his thoughts, his own little world.

And so, of course, Eddie starts to panic, questions and thoughts erratically flying around in his head like newspapers and advertisements being frantically thrown about. _Extra! Extra! Read all about it!_ Had he done something wrong? Was Richie purposefully ignoring him? Why did he look so exhausted? Did Beverly lie? Or more clarifying, _is Richie really okay?_ Eddie looks at him again

_please look at me_

and takes in his appearance as a red light. He’s wearing a chaotic band t-shirt Eddie isn’t familiar with, his hair a wild animal, face rested in his cheek as he looks solemnly at his desk, skin a bit pale, cheekbones a bit gaunt, circles under his eyes like an uninvited party guest— not that Eddie was _inspecting_ him, of course. It’s just that when Richie isn’t speaking, Eddie decides, it gives him time to take in his physical appearance, detail by detail; every strand of his chocolate curls, every freckle on his constellation face, and even the tiny, tiny scratch on his cheek that wasn’t there a few days ago. And Eddie would have more time to look at him if his teacher hadn’t began speaking again, her voice loud and booming and demanding full attention. So Eddie returns his attention to the board, like the good student he is, and writes down notes, none of which make any since, because he’s _really_ not thinking about English now.

The entire two-hour block period, Richie doesn’t say a word.

By the time the lesson ends, Eddie thinks that this has probably been the longest class he has ever been in his entire life. A few moments before the bell rings, his teacher allows them all to start packing up their things, a hushed chatter falling over the classroom like they’ve all been anticipating telling secrets the entire two hours. After a few seconds, Eddie stands up and slips his homework and worksheets into his bag. Slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he then takes a few cautious steps towards Richie’s desk, almost tiptoeing as if he was afraid the boy would lash out at any second. But Richie only stares at his desk as if it was a 9-5 job and he was being paid maximum wage. He would think Richie was dead if it wasn’t for his upright posture and the slow, steady rise of his shoulders.

Eddie lingers beside him a little moment longer before squeaking out a forced _“Hey, Richie.”_ His meek voice is almost too quiet to hear under his classmates loud discussions, but Richie must hear him, because he cranes his head around and looks up, eyes _finally_ lying on Eddie. And now, up close, Eddie has a better look at Richie, his curls, his eyes, his pasty skin— he almost looks sick.

Richie looks at Eddie as if he is a perfect stranger, expression focused like he is just seeing him for the very first time. He blinks a couple times, almost as if he is slowly registering every detail that is happening, then speaks, “Wh— _Hey.”_ Richie is surprised, Eddie can tell from the way his eyes widen and the way his voice moves up an octave in shock. Scooting his chair out and then standing up, meeting Eddie eye to eye before rising to his full height, Richie speaks again, _“Hey,_ Eddie. Eds. Have… you been hiding here this whole time?” One single curl falls in front of his face. He ignores it, while Eddie doesn’t.

Eddie looks at Richie, and Richie looks like he’s been in hibernation, this being the very first contact he has had with another human being in _months._ He looks at Richie and mentally decides whether or not his words hurt. Eddie pretends they don’t. He pretends his heart doesn’t tweak at the nickname and he pretends it doesn’t swell when the familiar trashmouth’s voice finally meets his ears for the first time that day.

Adjusting his backpack strap on his shoulder, Eddie replies, as calm as he can, a simple: “Yeah.” His voice sounds a bit tight, a bit strained, maybe because he’s a bit upset that not _once_ did Richie look up and notice him yet he has the audacity to say Eddie was _hiding_. Even right now, face to face, Richie looks like he’s having trouble believing Eddie’s here. “I sat,” Eddie turns around to point at his seat, “right there.” He turns back to Richie with a rather hopeful expression, one that says, _you’re joking, right?_ It’s Richie, it _has_ to be a joke.

But it’s not, although the way Richie looks at him is almost _(almost)_ comical. His face contorts into pure confusion, and if Eddie didn’t know any better, he would think Richie was almost as perplexed as he was.

“Huh,” Richie mumbles, leaning down for a second to pick up his own backpack, though it seems almost empty. “Must have been lost in my thoughts. Didn’t even see ya.”

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Must have been._

“Weird,” Eddie laughs it off, because Richie isn’t reacting in such a way that requires a serious response. Once again, Eddie’s been overthinking, worrying too much, worrying some more, and then worrying about worrying— that was his specialty. There’s a tiny shine that enters Richie’s eyes, as if he is finally awake from his robotic state, and Eddie almost instantly feels the ice frozen around his heart just _melt._

 _“Weird_ is right _,_ ” Richie repeats Eddie’s words with a grin, slugging the bag over his shoulder lazily, the air around them suddenly lifted into a familiar shift. “How could I have ever missed a catch such as yourself?”

Cheeks responsively warming up, Eddie easily huffs in response, a little quiver in the voice: “Wasn’t thrown at you.”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Nice one, Eds._

At that, Richie lets out a little belt of laughter, the sound making Eddie’s heart inflate up to the size of a balloon. He’s almost certain that when he speaks again, his voice will be high from helium. Richie speaks instead, thank god, “Fuck, Spaghetti. I’m gonna have to bring a clipboard with me every time we hang out so I can tally off every sick burn you _do_ throw at me.”

Contrary to the blush staining his cheeks like red wine splashed on a white carpet in response the nickname, Eddie rolls his eyes and feigns annoyance. “God, Trashmouth, I shouldn’t have even came up to you. Should have just let you not even know I was here. Maybe I could’ve walked right out without you even bothering me.”

Eddie’s joking, but he sees a small tinge of hurt sweep through Richie’s eyes. It’s gone in a flash. “But you _did_ come up to me,” Richie grins. _“You_ chose to talk with me.”

Eddie shrugs and nervously furrows his eyebrows, “So?”

Richie’s grin only furthers, the light in his eyes dancing excitedly. _“So,”_ He replies, “You can complain _all_ you want about me annoying you, but _you’re_ the one who started this conversation in the first place.”

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _He’s got you there._

“Yeah, but,” Eddie begins, voice a bit unsteady because he’s coming up with the words right as he says them, “Only because _you_ were so far gone in dreamland. Looked like you had gone brain dead. Or something.”

He’s half joking.

But Richie takes the joking half and lets out another little chuckle, like a villain about to blow up his archenemies, though in Richie’s case, Eddie has come to learn, it’s the laugh of _I’m about to tell a really bad joke that I think is really funny._ That statement is proven when he opens his mouth and slips out a, “My apologies, Eds. I was just so _deep_ into thought thinking about how much _deeper_ I was into that eye candy of your mo—”

“Don’t you _dare!”_ Eddie interrupts, beet red, an effect Richie is so effortlessly able to pull off. “What— are you trying to beat the world record for ‘world’s worst mom jokes’ or something?”

Richie pauses, as if he’s considering something, then artlessly replies: “Does that mean I get a prize?”

Eddie opens his mouth to respond, but then the bell speaks for him, blaring out the declaration that they were finally allowed to leave.

“I’m going,” Eddie farewells, though he’s hiding a tiny smile as he turns to begin walking towards the door.

“No, wait,” Comes Richie's voice— Richie’s _touch_ on his arm. Eddie twists his head around, gaze first resting on Richie’s hand grasping on his shoulder, noticing the soft way his fingers curl into his sweater, then lifts to Richie’s face, expression still playful but now also persuasive. “Let me make this up to you,” He says sweetly; gentle. “I’ll walk you home.”

Eddie shakes his head, always so polite, because he doesn’t even know what _this_ is. “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he begins, but then Richie lets out a laugh that makes everything in his entire being want to shake his head _yes. Yes, please walk me home. Pretty please with sprinkles on top._

“Oh, Eds,” Richie sighs, a peculiar look in his face, one Eddie cannot recognize. “Really! Let me walk you home. You live—what—two seconds—is it?—away from my place.”

_Fucking hell._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _You’re neighbors, babe._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Dumbass._

At Eddie’s apparently obvious realizing expression, Richie continues cheekily: “It’ll be no inconvenience. Really.”

Eddie wants to slap his little mop-head.

Yanking out of Richie’s comforting hold, Eddie, flustered, makes his way irately to the door, upset for no reason, truly. It was his fault he forgot they lived directly next to each other, yet he feels a small urge to blame Richie for ignoring him long enough to almost forget about it.

“So that’s a yes?” Richie calls out, sounding like he was right behind Eddie, like he raced up to keep up with him.

Eddie doesn’t answer.

…

But it must be a yes, because before he knows it, he and Richie are walking along side by side each other as they make their way to their houses, Eddie walking his bike alongside him. Eddie wonders if Richie walked to school this morning or if he drove, for Eddie hasn’t forgotten about his car, and if he drove, then why wasn’t he driving right now? Eddie doesn’t question it— out _loud_ , at least.

It’s not too cold out, yet Eddie appreciates in the way his snug sweater hugs his body, acting as a shield to the cold blows of wind that softly whip his face in soft breezes. The chill doesn’t seem to bother Richie, Eddie concludes, watching as the boy doesn’t so much as shiver in the weather, even though he’s not wearing a jacket.

“What can I say— I’m a daydreamer,” Richie adds onto their conversation with a playful shrug, one of _those_ smirks on his face. They had been walking for around ten minutes now and had just been making small talk— well, _Richie_ was. Eddie had only been nodding along in reply, mute in his response, listening to what Richie had to say. Which was a lot, Eddie decides as Richie speaks again, his voice greeting his ears in an almost too acquainted familiarity, so opposite to the unresponsive response he was receiving earlier. “Mind’s constantly thinking about three-hundred different things at once.”

Again, Eddie only nods in response, a little stifle of laughter hidden in his silence. Richie lets out another sigh. “Didn’t even hear a damn thing she said,” he continues, referring to their teacher. “Did you?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“Didn’t think so,” Richie laughs breathily. “She mushes her words together like a… like a _lawn mower_. She’s loud and you sure as hell can hear her, but you have no fuckin’ clue what she’s saying. You know what I mean?”

Eddie doesn’t know what he means. “Do you think lawn mowers are _saying something?”_ He asks, confused by Richie’s odd word choice.

Richie lets out a happy sigh. “So you are listening to me. Thought maybe you started daydreaming while I was talking about daydreaming…” He trails off.

This time, Eddie doesn’t speak again, only shaking his head in an exhausted response, scooting his bike a bit closer to him; steady.

“What about you, huh?” Richie asks. “What’re you thinking about?” Suddenly, he stops walking and puts a hand on Eddie to halt him as well. “Quick, we’re running out of time, Eds. World ends in two seconds— what’s on your mind right now at this very moment?”

 _Your hand is on my shoulder_ is the first thought that comes to mind. _Your fucking hand is on my shoulder._

Instead, Eddie lets out an exasperated groan yet laughs at Richie’s overdramatic demeanor. “—’M _cold,_ ” he replies, trying to ignore the warmth that’s bleeding from Richie’s hand and onto Eddie’s sweater, onto his skin. “I’m thinking about going home and putting on seven more coats.”

“Funny,” Richie hums, dropping his hand from Eddie and taking a step forward. “Because I was thinking about going to _your_ home, too. Only… I wasn’t putting on more clothes. I was taking more off. And so was your m—”

“God, will you _quit it?_ Man, you _are_ trying to beat some sort of trashmouth record, huh?” Eddie shakes his head, walking again, maybe a bit _too_ fast because he hears Richie scurry to catch up to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he huffs beside Eddie, a sweet little laugh in the voice. Eddie bets a hundred dollars his smile is real sweet too.

Eddie decides to play along. “Well, I’ll have you know that the timer has gone off. You don’t have to talk anymore. You won. Guinness World’s Records will be very proud.” He rolls his eyes in distaste, mouth quirked upwards; a most common juxtaposition. Richie lets out an _ooo_ sound.

“So,” Richie begins, “About the prize—”

Eddie’s quick this time, ending Richie’s sentence early, “Hey, I said the timer’s gone off! Beep beep, Richie—congratulations—you don’t have to speak anymore.”

Richie looks at Eddie in silent amusement, mouth open and lips pursed upwards in entertainment.

“Oh,” Eddie continues, “So saying ‘beep beep’ shuts you up? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Holding his hand over his chest, over his heart, Richie feigns hurt. “Aw, Eds. You cut me deep.”

“Beep beep, Richie. Keep up.” Eddie grins to himself, proud of his little joke.

And after that, Richie complies, and it actually is silent. For a little while at least.

They continue walking alongside each other, and though all is quiet, Eddie begins to notice rapid arm movements out of the corner of his eye. Turning to Richie, who is flailing his arms about almost erratically, Eddie asks, _“Can I help you?”_

“You said I couldn’t talk,” Richie says, talking anyways and relaxing his frantic movements. “But you never said I couldn’t do sign language.”

“Wh—” Eddie is dumbfounded. _“That_ was sign language?” It had looked as if Richie was flipping around an invisible sign that advertised for a car wash. “In _what_ language? Gibberish?”

Richie lets out a scoff of laughter, “Hey! I haven’t used it since grade school, okay? I’ve forgotten some stuff, go easy on me. What is this: _‘make fun of Richie’_ day?”

“That’s every day,” Eddie replies without missing a beat.

There’s a scuffle of laughter from the both of them, an _‘aw man’_ from Richie, but still something tweaks at Eddie’s heart in a negative way. Biting his lip and squirming in his standing place, Eddie softens, “God, I’m being mean, aren’t I.” It’s less of a question and more of a statement that’s trying to appear as an apology.

Richie turns to look formally at Eddie, his smile relaxing into a small grin. “Are you asking or apologizing?”

Eddie shrugs and looks down, “Both, I guess.” He then returns his gaze to Richie, eyebrows furrowing in guilt and eyes squinting in shyness. “Seriously, sorry for being an asshole,” he properly apologizes.

 ** _CRAZY GLUE:_** _Don’t forget to mention the part about how you aren’t used to being around someone besides your mother for this long and that he’s the first actual friend you’ve ever had, which is hilarious considering you’ve only known him for about a week._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Forget to mention it._

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Please forget to mention it._

Richie laughs. “It’s fine, spaghetti.”

_Spaghetti._

“I mean, honestly, I deserve it. I keep making all those crass jokes about your poor, sweet, dear ol’ mother.”

Richie hardly sounds sincere, but Eddie gives him a chance. “So, does this mean you’ll quit it with those jokes?”

“Hm.” Richie stops walking suddenly. Eddie stops, too.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Richie mutters quietly, eyes a bit concentrated as if he’s trying to figure something out in his head. “I was just thinking… if some random stranger had been standing here in this exact spot last night… then they _definitely_ would have still been able to hear me and your mom last ni—”

“Oh _hh_ my _God_ ,” Eddie lets out a groan and begins walking again, almost hoping to leave Richie in the dust behind him, praying that he didn’t see the huge smile that formed on his face because of Richie’s silly behavior.

“Eds! Please! Slow down,” Richie huffs playfully, catching up to Eddie, whose arms are crossed and eyes are trained right in front of him, not even sparing Richie a simple glance. “I’m not a runner. You know this.”

“I can’t believe you.”

“Sure you can! You saw how out of breath I was when you ran away from me the day we got ice cream.”

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _He remembers._

Eddie doesn’t reply. He, instead, contemplates hurrying his walk when Richie softly tugs on his shirt, slowing him down.

“Okay! Okay— no more mom jokes,” Richie surrenders, defeated. “Promise. And we can shake on it.” He holds out his free hand, the one that hadn’t grabbed Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie’s eyes flicker from Richie’s hand to Richie’s face.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Don’t do it. You’re not gonna wanna let go— you know this._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _I think the boy is telling the truth._

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Oh, I don’t know. He is rather zestful, isn’t he?_

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _C’mon. Do it. You know you want to._

A pause. And then—

Richie’s hands are cold.

“It’s a deal!” Richie cheers like he’s an entrepreneur salesman and he’s just made his first sale. He shakes Eddie’s hand like one too.

“Deal,” Eddie replies softly, shaking Richie’s hand back. He was expecting Richie’s hand to be occupied, like he’d snuck on one of those prank-handshake-shock things. Instead, Richie’s hand is empty. But the shock-y feeling is still sort of there. “I hope this lasts more than five minutes.”

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Are you talking about the deal or the handshake?_

_…yes._

“Won’t let you down, Eds. You have my word,” Richie finishes off the grip with one last shake, and that seems to be the last of that; hands parting ways and legs beginning to stride again. Houses not too far up ahead. Richie’s face still watching Eddie’s.

“Oh, I _know_ I do. I’ve gotten a _feeeew_ of your words today,” Eddie says, and Richie is laughing before the sentence is even _finished_. Eddie joins in, and then the two boys are snickering together like that for the next block or so, giggling at the smallest things like a couple of nerds.

Suddenly, with Richie, everything seems so much funnier. The way Richie’s hair flies into his mouth, the way this one kid is walking across the sidewalk from them, hell, even Richie’s laugh itself is funny, causing Eddie to laugh along with it. He basks in this moment as long as he can because before he knows it, he’ll be all alone, locked up in his room, hiding away from his mother like usual. The thought makes him stop laughing and shiver, and Richie must think it’s because of the cold so he says, “I’ll bring my car next time. Then we won’t have to make it through such a treacherous blizzard again.”

_There it fucking is again. Next time._

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Next time. As in—_

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Better get used to walking home with him._

_Walking home with me. Next time. As in—_

_Tomorrow?_

“Oh, it’s fine,” Eddie says. “Not _too_ too cold but… hey, why _didn’t_ you bring your car? Did you not drive to school today?”

“Nah,” Richie responds. “I probably should’ve but… I like to walk and think at the same time, you know? Clear my head a little. Daydream, as you can tell. Can’t do that while driving. Or at least, you _shouldn’t.”_

“No, you shouldn’t,” Eddie agrees.

“Thus the reason I’m using the good ol’ feet-mobile instead of Bessie. But yeah— what do you have seventh period? I can just find you after and we can carpool. Makes sense since we live so close, y’know.”

Eddie isn't sure if his heart has bursted out of his chest yet, but if he looked down to check, he imagines he’d see a gaping hole of where it used to be, the organ now on the run, dancing and jumping up into the air like a little cartoon villain. He can blame it on the cold all he wants, but the reason his face rapidly heats up so fiercely is utterly and totally because of Richie.

Blush coating his cheeks and a smile painting his lips, Eddie fakes disinterest (though the grin on his face says otherwise) with a short quip of, “Who says I’ll wanna carpool with you?”

_Me. I do. I say it._

Richie’s tongue pokes at his bottom lip as he beams and shakes his head, joining in Eddie’s act by replying just as playfully: “Okay, fine then. _Bike in the cold.”_ He speaks his last words as if he’s just planted a curse on Eddie right then and there, though Eddie would take it as a blessing.

Jaw dropping open the split-second those words leave Richie’s mouth, Eddie’s lips then quirk up, almost in a _game on_ way. He can see their houses in the near distance and yet he mentally prepares for a battle that could last over three blocks. And by prepares, he means hopes. And by battle, he means conversation.

“What a gentleman you are, trashmouth,” he responds, and he isn’t sure if it’s just his eyes playing tricks on him, but it seems that Richie is trying to walk slower as well.

“Nice nickname, short shorts,” Richie bites back. (And by bite, he means nibble.)

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _We get it._

Eddie scoffs, “Yeah, well you’ve earned it.” His legs tingle with the burn of cold— but his shorts aren’t _too_ short, are they?

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Never too short._

“Yeah?” Richie says.

 _“Yeah,”_ Eddie replies.

“Well,” Richie begins, their feet stepping up on the sidewalk to where their two houses part ways. “There is a better way to shut me up.”

And for a moment, just a moment, Eddie’s cartoon heart that was making it's great escape earlier is suddenly now _leaping_ back in his chest, making a ruckus against his rib cage as it slips back into its place. Truth be told, that’s physically what Eddie feels like after those words leave Richie’s mouth. His chest twists and his stomach turns and his hands grow clammy and his lips grow numb and his head grows quiet. He feels he is every degree on the thermometer at the moment— if his mother were to check his temperature, she’d take him to the hospital.

His mouth is cotton ball dry and he’s almost ninety-nine percent sure his eyes have bugged out, but Eddie, after much too long of a pause, is able to manage a gentle, playful response, “Like what?”

Perhaps it comes off too submissive— too docile— but it doesn’t _matter_ how it came off because now Richie’s face is merely inches away from Eddie’s, his eyes twinkling with a look of some sort, and for God knows why, Eddie can’t figure out _what._

Eddie’s heart makes another attempt to break out of the jail cell of his chest, so he slowly slides his hand up his shirt to keep it inside, feeling it thump against his palm with reprisal. His eyes reach upwards towards Richie’s, meeting him with confusion and curiosity.

Faces less than half a ruler apart, Richie turns his head to the side and points his finger at his cheek, which is now facing Eddie, and says:

“Punch me out.”

Eddie’s hand twitches. The first emotion he feels is disappointment and the second emotion is confusion to _why_ he is disappointed. This is Richie. Of course he was going to say something funny. Then why isn’t Eddie laughing? Genuinely, that is.

Because Eddie fakes a little laugh. He rolls his eyes and takes a step back (too close) in response. Because of course Richie wasn’t going to— _did you really think he was going to— to—_

“Don’t mind if I do,” Eddie retorts back, mouth quirked upwards in hilarity but eyes not quite following. He tries to pull off the _oh, I knew you were joking_ act so well, playfully drawing his fist back, about to pretend to deliver a sugary little shiner to Richie’s face. His fist is resting upwards in the air when a shrill voice makes his joking, ferocious stance turn into a serious, startled one.

_“Eddie?”_

Dropping his hand and turning his gaze from Richie’s, he’s brave enough to take a peek in the direction of the voice, but that bravery only gets him so far, because he sees his mother’s silhouette standing in the doorway of their home, causing him to drop the search instantly, eyes alerting back to Richie as if he’s just been caught for something he didn’t do.

“Oh,” Eddie begins to say, speaking without really thinking about it, talking just out of relief but also the opposite of. He looks back at his mother, then back at Richie, struggling between who to pay attention to. “Uh, my mom,” he points a thumb back at her, as if Richie couldn’t see her before.

“Eddie!” she calls out again, almost a bit finicky. “Eddie— _would you come inside?_ I need your help with something!”

Behind his glasses, Richie’s eyes flicker between Eddie’s mom and her son. “Seems like it’s important,” Richie speaks after laying his attention back on Eddie, sentence spoken surprisingly without a joke.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Seems like it.” He doubted it actually held any importance, but he wasn’t going to linger around just for his mother to call out and embarrass him again. “I better go.”

Richie’s eyes twinkle gently with an understanding look. “Guess you better.” He bares a tooth-filled smile, nodding and beginning to take a step back. “I’ll be looking forward to that fist in the face tomorrow though!”

Softly laughing, Eddie shakes his head and rests his bike against his front lawn. Before he can utter back any response, Eddie’s mother is calling for him again, her impatience worsening by the sound of her voice. “Yeah. Tomorrow,” Eddie quickly says, walking backwards onto his front lawn.

And then, before he turns to leave, Eddie speaks one last time, hands fiddling with each other nervously. “My seventh period is Chem. Mr. Pickford’s class. Room 137, I think— if you still wanna do the, uh, carpool thing.”

Richie flashes Eddie a lengthy smile, his hands digging into his coat pockets and his shoulders rising up elatedly. “Chem. Pickford. 137, you _think_.” He takes a few steps backwards, copying Eddie as they both begin to part ways, still facing each other. “See you then, Eds. Bring your fist.”

“Can’t leave home without it! Heh,” Eddie waves it in the air in response, a harmless threat. And then he’s facing the other way, the way _not_ facing Richie— the way facing his house, his front door, his mother.

She stands in the doorway, eyes alert and attentive on Eddie as if she fears he would run off at any given moment.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _You don’t have the guts._

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _He doesn’t have the choice._

Feet hitting against the sidewalk timidly, Eddie saunters towards the front of his house and scurries to his mother’s figure, pushing past her form once he greets her in the doorway. He hates the fact that he’s nervous for no reason— or no _good_ reason, at least. Hates that just his mother’s voice is enough to make him on edge.

Taking off his shoes in the front room then setting them against the wall, Eddie asks, though he feels like he already knows the answer he’s going to get: “Hey, mama. What do you need help wi—”

“Who was that boy?” is the question she interrupts Eddie with.

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Of all questions._

Setting his backpack down on the nearby sofa, Eddie lets out a little sigh. “Who? The boy I was talking to outs—”

“Yes, _of course_ that one,” his mother says, obviously. “Unless— why, were there _others?”_

 _“No,_ ma,” Eddie replies, weary. “That’s just our neighbor. He lives in the house right next to us. He was walking me h—”

“Does this _neighbor_ have a name, hm? And why was your fist raised to him, Edward? Have you not been listening to _anything_ I’ve been telling you?” Eddie’s heart sags as he comes to the familiar terms of the fact that she doesn’t really care about what Eddie has to say: she only cares about what she wants to hear. She speaks as if she doesn’t believe him; like she thinks he’s lying. Like he’s being stupid. Like she’s failed as a mother.

**_AUNT BEE:_ ** _Don’t say that._

Sonia Kaspbrak hot behind his trail, Eddie enters the kitchen and bee-lines to the pantry. He grabs the bread first, easily, but he needs to get on his tippy-toes to reach the peanut butter, and he does so with success, grabbing the jar and setting it on the counter. He opens the fridge and begins to look for the grape jelly.

“Eddie!”

“His name is Richie, Mom,” Eddie says in a monotone mumble; so uninterested in this conversation he can feel tears beginning to well up in his eyes out of distress. “And we were just joking around.” Finding the jelly, Eddie picks it up from its little slot in the fridge and begins to assemble the components to making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich; something simple to satisfy his slight hunger— an early dinner since he already has a feeling that once he goes upstairs, he won’t be going back down until tomorrow.

Arms crossed and tight, pinched expression sitting on her face, Sonia grumbles displeased. _“Joking around?_ Is that what you call it? Edward— you _can’t do things_ like that. Do you understand me? I signed a contract with the school saying that you wouldn’t be causing any violence once we g—”

“I’m _not!”_ Eddie exclaims, offended, bread in one hand and a knife coated with peanut butter in the other. “Seriously— Ma— we were just playing arou—”

“That kid shows up to school with a black eye tomorrow and you want me to tell the school it’s because you two were _playing around?”_

“I didn’t hit him, Mom! And I wasn’t going to—”

“I _saw_ you—”

“And I said we were just joking around!”

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Deep breaths, baby. This is just a repeat of a conversation you’ve had before._

It is quiet. Then, as if she read his mind:

“Were you just _joking around_ with Mick? Was that it?”

“Oh my God,” Eddie exhales, exasperated, dropping the knife on the table with a _cling._ “Stop saying his name. You _know_ I hate his name—”

“Well?” She inquires. “Were you?”

“I— Mom, that is an entirely different story and you know it.” His voice strains with anxiety, wobbly with emotion. It’s quiet in the house then. And so he picks up what he dropped a few seconds ago with shaky hands and begins lathering the bread with the brown, salty substance, trying to focus on his sandwich making skills instead of— of—

**_FBG WITH A MUSTACHE:_ ** _Don’t. You know thinking about him only upsets you._

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _Don’t be a fucking idiot, goob. Stop thinking about him._

**_SEXY LADY:_ ** _Stop it!_

“I made a friend at school, Ma,” Eddie speaks softly, like his voice was strong enough to break the air if he wanted it to, though the truth is, he fears if he speaks any longer then his voice will just give out completely. “And he was being nice and walking me home. Since we live so close. And we were just goofing off— I was never going to actually hit him. I promise you.”

His eyes don’t leave his hands, finishing off the peanut butter and now applying the jelly, when his mother speaks again. “We got lucky when this school said they'd accept you, Eddie. We got lucky when they said they'd overlook your childish behavior at West Way. I want to believe you, Eddie. I do. Okay? I want to. Just don’t lie to me.”

“I won’t,” he replies in a whisper, smashing the two slices of bread together like it was the end of the conversation. And it was. As he puts the dishes in the sink, he thinks about the fact that his mother will probably be spending more time on cleaning the tiny peanut butter stain on the granite table than she ever would on mending their relationship. His mother doesn’t leave him alone, for she never does, but after Eddie puts everything back, he takes a napkin and his mediocre sandwich, grabs his backpack from the living room, and then begins to make his move to go upstairs. He’s one foot up on the carpeted step when his mother chimes in again.

“Why don’t you ever talk to me about it?”

Not turning back to look at her, Eddie’s shoulders stay firm as he replies an emotionless, “Because there’s nothing to talk about.”

And then he’s walking. Step, step, step. Right foot, left foot. Backpack in one hand, sandwich and napkin in the other.

And then he’s in the upper hallway— one that should hold picture frames of loved ones but instead holds invisible frames of unfamiliarity.

And then he’s in his room; the door shut. Locked.

**_CRAZY GLUE:_ ** _And then he’s in his head._


	6. author's note

so, for the people who have been paying attention to this story, you can obviously tell i've been very careless with it. i don't mean to make it some crazy big deal but, for personal reasons, i'm not going to be updating scatterheart anymore, surprise surprise. i had so many ideas with this fic and got so excited about it that i waited and waited until i fell out of that excitement and long story short, for the moment being, i just can't contribute to this project anymore. i'm keeping it up for those who still choose to go back and read it, but unless i fall back into that passion of richie and eddie, this story is just. done. i've switched fandoms, but richie and eddie, and the losers, will aaaaalways hold such a dear, dear place in my heart. i've got a new story idea for a new fandom that i will not be posting unless it's done or almost done, for obvious reasons. i'm very sorry for those who liked this story and will miss it, and to those who do not care, what are u doing here!!!! go read where is my mind by ciders!!! or touch like velvet!!! check him out!!! but anyways. thank you to everyone who has supported me on this project, i can't express how much i appreciate it and i hope to see you all again when my head is cleared and my heart is in a better place.

warmth,  
sadclown


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